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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27615659">For When He's Being a Dumbass</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barnable/pseuds/Pippinpaddleopsicopolis'>Pippinpaddleopsicopolis (Barnable)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern with Bending (Avatar), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxious Sokka (Avatar), Bisexual Sokka (Avatar), Coming Out, Depression, Family Feels, Gen, Hakoda (Avatar) is a Good Parent, POV Katara (Avatar), Protective Katara (Avatar), Self-Harm, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Love, Sokka (Avatar) Has ADHD, Sokka (Avatar) Has Dysgraphia, Sokka (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Sokka (Avatar)-centric</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 03:08:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>45,712</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27615659</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barnable/pseuds/Pippinpaddleopsicopolis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Katara has this kit. It's mostly filled with pencils, sticky notes, and other random junk, but sometimes she adds things to it. Sometimes, Sokka needs something, needs <em>her</em>, and she's always prepared for those moments—even if it means carrying around a whole bag of things no one else could ever understand.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hakoda &amp; Katara (Avatar), Hakoda &amp; Sokka (Avatar), Katara &amp; Sokka (Avatar), Katara &amp; Suki (Avatar), Sokka/Suki (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>63</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>211</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Pencils & Practice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Katara didn’t always have her kit.</p><p>When she first made it, the emergency bag was only a pouch filled with nothing more than pencils, and it wasn’t even necessarily for her brother. It was <em>initiated</em> by her brother, yes, but not created directly for his benefit. In fact, she put it together for the exact opposite reason; so she might be able to compensate for herself whenever Sokka got frustrated and broke all their pencils in half. Which, also yes, happened much more than you would expect. He always held his pencils weird, and the moment he got upset, they cracked.</p><p>“I can’t do it!”</p><p>She lurched when Sokka snapped his pencil for the third time that afternoon, throwing the two halves against the table. Katara swallowed hard, settling back in her seat to continue her own homework, while Kya quickly knelt at Sokka’s side. She knew how to help him, better than Katara ever could. Or, at least, that’s what she believed before it all happened. Before everything they built was stripped away.</p><p>“It’s okay, Sokka.” Kya gently rubbed his back, giving his shoulder a big, reassuring squeeze. The sniffle from her brother made Katara flinch again, and she did her best not to focus on the sound. It was harder to keep from looking, from seeing the way he pulled his eyes shut and frantically shook his head. “You just have to keep trying. I know you’re going to get it.”</p><p>“No, I’m not.” He was on the verge of tears and it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. Each time he tried to do homework, he ran into the same problem. For a while, Katara didn’t understand, but then she saw the way he wrote and realized that for some reason, the letters didn’t come easy to him. Not like they did for her and the other kids. “I’m not ever going to get it. I keep trying and trying but I can’t do it. All the other kids are learning cursive already and I can’t even write my own name.”</p><p>“I know it’s hard, baby. Take a deep breath, okay? Breathe with me.” She moved her hands up and down in that reassuring manner Katara knew all too well, and Sokka did his best to follow. It took a few tries to get his hands to stop shaking, but when they did, Kya reached out for one and gave him another squeeze. “Here. We made so much progress yesterday, remember? You can’t give up on it now.”</p><p>“Yes, I can. I can’t do it. I’m too stupid.”</p><p>“You’re not stupid.” Katara whipped around in her chair suddenly, her eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms against her chest. She shook her head disapprovingly, ignoring the look her mom sent her way, asking her to be silent. “You’re the smartest person in our whole entire school. I couldn’t figure out how to add up the otter penguins and you did it all in your head without even writing it down.”</p><p>“But I only did that because I don’t know <em>how </em>to write it down,” Sokka moaned, tugging on the end of his wolftail. He shifted away when Kya tried to reach out to him again, refusing to accept her touch. “I don’t want to go to school anymore. I can’t do it. All the other kids make fun of my handwriting because I’m too stupid to—”</p><p>“Sokka, stop it.” Kya’s tone was harsh but loving, the expression in her eyes only begging him to stop hating himself. Katara understood what she was thinking. She’d overheard enough conversations between her parents by then to know it all. They were worried about the path her brother was on. A path of self-inflicted hurt and loathing, whatever that meant. “You are <em>not </em>stupid. Everyone has something that they struggle with and just because this is hard for you doesn’t mean you’re not going to get better at it. You just have to practice.”</p><p>“No. I don’t want to practice anymore.”</p><p>“Sokka—”</p><p>“<em>No!</em>”</p><p>He didn’t wait for her to reply, shoving his chair back and storming off to his bedroom. Katara jumped a little when she heard the door slam, turning to her mother who only forced a smile in response. She was clearly upset by what happened, as she was every time Sokka tried to give up, but she didn’t say anything about it to her daughter. Instead, she quietly offered to be there if Katara needed any help with her own homework, then walked away to start dinner.</p><p>Nothing else happened until Hakoda got home. Katara only worked on her spelling and her math, her mom occasionally coming in to check on her while preparing the stew. Then her dad walked through the door and for a moment, conversation was loud until Hakoda asked where Sokka was, and suddenly, Katara’s parents both began to speak in hushed voices. Katara rose to her feet, pretending she was going to the bathroom, but stopping just outside the kitchen and sliding down against the wall.</p><p>“…tutor isn’t going to help,” Kya went on, her arms crossed as she gently shook her head. “I don’t think it’s a lack of skill that’s holding him back. I was talking to your mom on the phone this morning and she was telling me she read this whole thing about learning disabilities. It—”</p><p>“Wait, wait, wait.” Hakoda furrowed his brow, his tone more concerned than anything else. Katara whipped back behind the corner when he glanced around the room, lowering his voice again. “You think he has a <em>learning disability</em>? No. No, that doesn’t make sense because he is <em>ridiculously </em>smart. You’ve talked to him, right? Kid’s <em>grades</em> above where he should be.”</p><p>“Yeah, maybe in math and science but he can barely write his own <em>name</em>, Hakoda. Just listen for a second, all right? I’ve been looking this up all day and I really, really think we should talk to someone about the possibility that he has dysgraphia. No, stop. I’m telling you; it makes sense. The letters, the spelling, the lines—everything I was reading about online was <em>exactly </em>what he’s been struggling with.”</p><p>“Okay. So, what do you— what do you think we should do about it?”</p><p>“I don’t know.” Both their tones were so firm, so serious, that Katara found her own heart racing despite not understanding most of the things they said. “Talk to his teacher or a school counselor or something? I really— I don’t know. But he can’t keep going like this; he told me earlier that he doesn’t even want to go to school anymore because he thinks he’s stupid and all the other kids make fun of his handwriting.”</p><p>“No, no, no. He’s not even eight yet. He shouldn’t have to be dealing with that.” Hakoda let out a sigh that made Katara’s heart drop too. She didn’t know what ‘dysgraphia’ was or even understood the concept of learning disabilities, but she knew that something was wrong with Sokka and all she wanted to do was help him. Even if he<em> was</em> really annoying sometimes. “Okay, we can talk to his teacher when we take him to school in the morning. I’m sure she suspects something at this point too.”</p><p>“Right, that’s the problem. I don’t know if I’m completely off because if he <em>did </em>have dysgraphia, you’d think she would have said something by now, but she hasn’t. That just makes me wonder if I’m reading this all wrong, or—”</p><p>“Hey.” He placed his hands on Kya’s shoulders, squeezing them reassuringly. “It’s better to go and find out, right? If it is dysgraphia, we can figure out how to help him. If it’s not, then we can start looking for tutoring or something else.”</p><p>“Okay.” Kya nodded, letting out a breath. “I am just <em>so </em>afraid that he’s going to be held back because of this and you know how much he loves learning. It’s not fair for him to have to repeat an entire year just because he has trouble with one little thing.”</p><p>“I know. We’ll figure it out.”</p><p>Katara only stood up when she saw her parents move into a hug, scurrying across the hall to her brother’s bedroom. She knocked on the door carefully, waiting before she walked in. She didn’t actually get a response, but she wanted to talk to Sokka anyway, afraid of what might happen to him. Katara didn’t know what her parents were talking about, but she didn’t like them having to talk to their teacher or ‘hold him back’. Whatever that was, it couldn’t be good.</p><p>Inside the room, Sokka was curled up on his bed, staring at a notebook in front of him. For a split second, Katara thought that he was practicing his letters again, but then she peered over his shoulder and realized that he was just doodling. Sokka doodled a lot. He wasn’t particularly good at it and Katara used to make fun of him sometimes, but he liked it. It made him happy and it made her happy when she got to draw with him too.</p><p>Rather than saying anything right off the bat, Katara reached into the pocket on the front of her blue dress and pulled out a few markers she’d stashed. She offered one to Sokka and he took it after a second, looking over to her with bloodshot eyes. It was easy to tell when Sokka was sad because he got weird and quiet and his nose got all stuffy but Katara never got upset with him for it. She just did her best to try and cheer him up.</p><p>“What are you drawing?” asked Katara quietly, not wanting to mess up his picture.</p><p>“Gran Gran’s house. See the otter penguins?” He bit down on the edge of his lip, his tongue just barely poking out as he started to color in the blue. That was not the color of the water over there, Katara wanted to say, but she held back. Just that once. “I wish we had more otter penguins over here. I miss playing with them. Do you think Dad and Mom are going to let us go sledding with her again?”</p><p>“Dad will. Mom thought it was dangerous, but I think she’s starting to come around.”</p><p>“She only thought it was dangerous because I tried to snowboard and scraped my cheek.” It was true. He still had a little scar on the edge of his chin as a reminder. “I think they’re going to let us go sledding again. Gran Gran is the best. She’s really good at announcing our races.”</p><p>“You’re just saying that because you always win.”</p><p>“I can’t help it that I’m faster.” Sokka smiled, but it didn’t last long. He stopped drawing suddenly, the look on his face falling as he sniffed and tugged at his hair tie. “I can’t help it that I don’t know how to write, and I can’t make these shapes work. I can’t— I can’t do it. I don’t know why I can’t do it. Even <em>you</em> can do it and you’re my little sister.”</p><p>“It’s okay.” She took the marker from his hand, carefully but sloppily filling in the lines where he’d started. Sokka watched her movements, clearly trying to figure out how he could do it for himself. “I heard Mom and Dad talking in the kitchen. They said they’re going to help you.”</p><p>“They already tried but it doesn’t work. I’m too stupid.”</p><p>“You’re not stupid, Sokka. You’re super smart. You even know how to <em>multiply</em>.”</p><p>Sokka shrugged. “It’s not that hard. But I don’t know how to write it down. It doesn’t matter if I can do it in my head because I don’t know how to write it down and everyone else does. Everyone else draws real pictures and writes real words and everything I do is just scribbles.”</p><p>“Mom said it’s not your fault.” Really, Katara didn’t know how much she should say about what she overheard, as she was aware that eavesdropping was bad, but she didn’t know how to keep her little mouth shut either. “She said that Gran Gran thinks you have desgarphia and that’s why it’s hard for you to write.”</p><p>“What does that mean?” He made a face, reaching out for another marker. He colored outside the lines, but it was okay. It didn’t have to be perfect.</p><p>“I don’t know. Mom told Dad that she and Gran Gran were talking on the phone and they think you have a learning disa— disability.”</p><p>“Is that a bad thing?” asked Sokka quietly.</p><p>His tone sounded almost scared, his marker freezing halfway through his doodle as he looked up to meet Katara’s eyes. The tears were already forming again beneath his eyelids and Katara quickly shook her head. She didn’t know if it was. She couldn’t tell by the way that her parents talked whether Sokka needed help because it was bad or just because it was hard, like learning math was for her.</p><p>“I don’t think it’s a bad thing,” she told him, her voice quiet and hesitant despite how reassuring she wanted to be. Lying was bad. She knew it was bad. But it felt like the right thing to do at the time. “Mom and Dad didn’t sound upset about it, they just wanted to get you help. Like you helped me when I couldn’t figure out how to add up big numbers.”</p><p>“Oh.” That seemed to make him feel a little better. Sokka resumed his absent doodling, though his eyes were moving weird, like he wasn’t quite paying attention to what he was doing. Maybe <em>that </em>was the real reason he struggled with it so much. “Did it sound like they were mad at me?”</p><p>“Why would they be mad at you?”</p><p>“Because I’m dumb.” Katara opened her mouth to argue, but Sokka went on before she could. “You have good handwriting, and you can make the water move, and I can’t even draw an otter penguin or write my own name. I can’t do <em>anything</em>.”</p><p>“Sokka—”</p><p>“You guys in here? Dinner’s ready and on the table if you—” Hakoda stopped in the doorway, his face falling when he saw the look in Sokka’s eyes. He glanced over to Katara before running over to kneel down beside him, his brow knit in concern as he rubbed a hand on his son’s back. “Hey, bud. You okay? What happened?”</p><p>“Katara said you think there’s something wrong with me,” said Sokka, his voice cracking. Katara bit down on her lip, quickly looking away when Hakoda turned to her. “She said— she said you have to get me help because I’m too stupid and they’re gonna hold me back.”</p><p>“No, no, no, that’s not what we meant. Sokka. Hey.” He rubbed his shoulders reassuringly, leaning down to Sokka’s level when a tear escaped his eye. “You are not stupid, okay? You are so, so smart, we just want to make sure that everything is okay because you’re not making the progress you’re supposed to be.”</p><p>“Because I’m <em>stupid</em>.”</p><p>“Absolutely not. You are not stupid, Sokka. You are <em>insanely </em>smart and talented; you just have a little trouble putting things on the page and that’s okay. Your mom and I were taking and we’re going to see if we can get you some help to make it easier, okay?”</p><p>Sokka sniffed. “And the other kids won’t make fun of me anymore?”</p><p>“They won’t make fun of you anymore,” Hakoda promised, pulling his son into his arms. Sokka nuzzled into his chest, sliding his small hands around his dad’s stomach. “No one will ever make fun of you again.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Because she was so young, Katara thought that the diagnosis would be somewhat of a quick fix, but it didn’t happen like that.</p><p>When he first got the diagnosis, Sokka cried. He insisted he could do better and that there was nothing wrong with him, and it took both their parents to calm him down. Katara was told to wait outside when she tried to help because she only seemed to make it worse. She wanted to be there, to tell Sokka it was okay, but he yelled at her. He was mad that she was better at writing than he was, that she could bend, that she was younger, but she didn’t need the help like he did. Though Kya assured her daughter it wasn’t her fault, Katara couldn’t help but feel like it was.</p><p>Days after that, they got Sokka his first tutor. He didn’t cooperate. Katara was kicked out of the living room on more than one occasion and sent to hide out in her bedroom and listen from afar. Sokka threw more than a few fits as he struggled with his lessons, and Katara brought him more than a few new pencils whenever she heard the last one snap. One tutor refused to come back, and the second tutor offered to try again, but Sokka rejected him and went back to his claims that he would rather not go to school at all.</p><p>It was their mom who made the biggest progress. After Sokka refused to work with any more tutors, she went, and she sat down with him, just like she did before. Katara sat on the other side of the room, doing her own homework, and pretending she wasn’t listening to the others. She was getting better at the things in her classes, but she still had to ask Sokka for help sometimes. They did better when they were working together because Katara could write things down and Sokka could do all the work right inside of his head. It was perfect.</p><p>“Come on, baby, one more try.” Kya rubbed Sokka’s back reassuringly, trying to coax him back into working, but all he did was shake his head again. Katara looked away when her mom glanced over to her. She knew she wasn’t supposed to stare. “I know it’s hard, but you’ve been doing so well. You’ve made such big progress since we started doing these exercises.”</p><p>“No. I don’t want to do it anymore.” He squeezed his eyes shut, gripping his pencil between his hands. Katara tried to focus on her own work, but it was hard when she was waiting for the inevitable snap. She couldn’t remember the last time Sokka got through his homework without breaking at least three pencils. “I can’t. It doesn’t work. I’ve been trying forever and I’m not getting any better. I can’t do it. I’m not smart enough.”</p><p>“Hey, no. You do not say that. You are <em>so </em>smart, baby. You help your sister with her homework all the time, doesn’t he, hon?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Katara nodded quickly, turning around in her chair to look over at her brother. He shifted his pencil to chew on his thumbnail, gaze downcast but lifting just long enough to notice and acknowledge the gesture. “You’re super smart, Sokka. You can add up hundreds of numbers without even looking at them. I have to read them in the book and even then it’s still really hard.”</p><p>“But it doesn’t matter because I can’t write them good.” Sokka sniffed, looking back down to what Katara imagined was a full page of sloppy writing. “You all keep saying I’m smart but everyone in my class thinks that I’m dumb because they say I can’t even write my name and I always do the date wrong.”</p><p>“I know.” Kya’s tone was sad as she reached a hand up to stroke Sokka’s hair, pulling him into a hug and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. She let out a deep breath, holding him close to her chest. “I know that it’s hard, but you’re doing so, so well. We’re going to keep trying and you’ll keep getting better and one day you’re going to do even better than any of them can, okay?”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>His voice cracked, and Kya responded by only giving him another hug. “I’m going to get dinner started. You just keep trying, all right? I’m right over here if you need my help with anything. You too, Katara.”</p><p>Katara nodded, but she had no intention of seeking out help from her mom. Instead, when Kya left the room, she grabbed her book and rose from her seat, moving over to place it on the floor. She tapped on Sokka’s shoulder several times, getting his attention before she nodded, asking him to sit on the carpet with her. Sokka hesitated, glancing over to the kitchen and back down to his work again, but nodded and hopped out of his chair, following Katara to where she put her book.</p><p>“Can you help me with my math?” she asked, pointing to one of the problems on the page. She was getting better at addition, but the really big numbers still got her confused. They never tripped up Sokka. He didn’t respond, only turning the book around to read it. “I forgot how to do the big numbers again.”</p><p>“You have to carry it,” said Sokka. He reached out for his pencil but stopped when he realized it was all but snapped in half. Katara quickly grabbed her own pencil bag, handing him a new one. “See? You move these numbers and— and you— sorry. You can’t really read it.”</p><p>“I can read it.” Katara was guilty of lying to him in the past but this was not one of those times. The numbers were a little sloppy, a little too close to the ones already printed on the page, but they were good. They were legible. She smiled at her brother, and Sokka barely smiled back. “I don’t understand how you’re supposed to move it over. How do the numbers work like that?”</p><p>Math always got him talking. Katara wasn’t really a fan of it, at least not yet, but Sokka could babble on about math and science for <em>hours</em>. Sometimes, their parents would talk about it because they didn’t even understand how he knew enough to ramble for that long. He went on and on about the things he learned in his classes and whenever he did, it got him to stop thinking about the things that he struggled with. Katara did her best to point out the stuff her brother liked when he was sad. It always cheered him up, like swimming did for her.</p><p>Sokka spent several minutes demonstrating how to do the long addition, but when he started trying to explain a word problem, he stopped. He couldn’t rely on the printed numbers anymore and suddenly he had to write them all by himself. He wasn’t particularly good at it and the way he kept saying out loud what he wrote was a little annoying, but Katara didn’t say anything. She waited for him to figure it out, watching and chewing on her lip as he erased the numbers over and over again.</p><p>He was quietly crying again by the time Kya walked back into the room. Katara tried to help him, to show him the right lines and encourage him when he went slow and tried his best, but it never worked. He just shoved her away, broke her pencil, and let the tears fall down his cheeks as he sniffled the whole way through his work. It was his favorite thing in the world, math, and it was being ruined for him just the same way every other subject already had.</p><p>“Hey, what happened?” Kya knelt down at his side, gently taking the broken pencil from his hands. Sokka shook his head quickly, refusing to answer the question. He glared down at the page in front of him, lifting one hand to chew on his thumbnail, though it was intercepted by his mother. Kya sighed when her gaze turned to the book between her children. “You are doing so much better, baby. Look at how you did your lines. You’ve made such big progress since we started working on this.”</p><p>“But I still can’t do it,” mumbled Sokka. He leaned into her side when she wrapped an arm around him, reaching up to chew on the thumb that she hadn’t taken captive. “I couldn’t— I couldn’t do the fives. I was trying to do the fives and I kept messing it up and I can’t draw the lines at the bottom. They’re supposed to be straight, but I can’t make them look like that.”</p><p>Several years down the line, Katara would find Sokka’s ‘not straight’ handwriting to be an absolutely perfect opportunity for a joke—as would he himself, as the initiator of the long-running gag—but it was far too early for that. All she did then was stare as Kya held her hand out for a new pencil, and quickly supply her with another. She was going to have to get more soon. She was starting to run out again. Not that it was a big deal; Katara would give her brother a thousand of her pencils if it meant he no longer had to cry.</p><p>“Here, come on. Let’s try again.” Rather than using Katara’s book, Kya reached out for an empty notebook to use as scratch paper. She held her hand on the back of Sokka’s, gently helping to push him in the right places. Sokka’s eyes were wide and still bloodshot, his cheeks wet and his nose still stuffy, but he looked better after he drew the first good line. “There you go. That’s good, just watch how you’re holding that pencil, remember? You’re doing great. See how much better that line looks?”</p><p>Sokka nodded, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as it always did when he was concentrating. He pulled his hand away from his mom, trying to write the equation on his own. It was slow going but he did it. He got the whole thing finished just before their dad walked in the door. Hakoda smiled when he saw his family sitting on the carpet and Katara waved to him, a smile on her face. He waved back, dropping his things down by the door before moving to kneel beside them.</p><p>Whether he gave Sokka the clap on the back because he was visibly recovering from his meltdown or because he really was doing better, Katara didn’t know. She figured it was probably a mix of both. She grinned and told him he did a good job too, wanting to get in on all the family goodness that was happening. Sokka always made the biggest progress when he was sitting with her and their mom. When he could focus on the numbers he loved instead of the letters that caused him so much pain.</p><p>They didn’t do much else that afternoon, but Sokka kept practicing every single day. He slowly started to get better, his confidence growing each time he came back from school, and he began to ask for less and less pencils. That didn’t stop Katara from keeping a bag around at all times. He still broke them a lot, sometimes because he was frustrated, and sometimes because he was just tapping his hand in that really annoying way which always broke the ends off.</p><p>Regardless of what he did at school and what he did with the tutors he encountered, Sokka made the biggest progress when he was practicing with his mom. When she was holding an arm around him and occasionally guiding his fingers in the right direction. When she kissed the top of his head and smiled because he made good progress. He got better and better and within a year, he was writing like a pro. Sokka struggled to learn cursive and ended up skipping out on most of it, but he made such big improvements that no one cared.</p><p>Katara was the proudest of him. She still went to him for help every single time she had trouble with her math or science, and he solved the problems in a second. Sometimes, it took him a little longer to write down his thoughts. Many times, he still struggled to spell the right words. Always, he asked Katara to do the writing at some point, not because he couldn’t do it himself, but because it was their old ritual, and they liked that familiarity.</p><p>By the time he was ten years old, Sokka was writing like a pro. He still struggled with his drawings sometimes and asked for help when he couldn’t figure out how to write new things he’d learned in math or science, as well as big words from his other classes, but he was good. Kya helped him learn everything he needed, and she helped him practice until he could write almost better than Katara herself (okay, that was an exaggeration, but still). He was doing so well, taking huge leaps, and finally turning into the kid he was supposed to be.</p><p>They were working on their English homework when they hid under the tables. When their dad told them to get down and dragged Sokka into his arms to pull him out of the way. Katara was on the other side of the room but she understood what to do, diving into a nearby closet and hiding herself behind the coats. She tried to keep herself back but couldn’t stop from poking her head out to see what was going on. It was the biggest regret of her life.</p><p>Katara didn’t remember a lot of what happened that night, but she remembered crying. She remembered screaming and begging and her dad dragging her back before his whole arm went red. She remembered Sokka freezing in shock before trying to help his dad. Before getting injured himself and running back to her side. She remembered him holding her and hiding her and telling her not to look. Protecting her and doing his best when he was too young to be handling it himself.</p><p>She remembered the sirens. The snow when they carried her outside. Trying to heal her family but not yet knowing how. The blood on her dad’s shirt and the way Sokka held his own elbow with one hand because he couldn’t support it on his own. She remembered her heart stopping for a good ten seconds as she stared at the flashing lights. Her dad giving her hand a squeeze and promising it would be okay even though the tears were still pouring from his own eyes too.</p><p>She remembered the hospital and the intercoms and having to decide who she wanted to see first. She remembered choosing Sokka because her dad was strong and brave, but she wanted to make sure her brother was okay. He was, but his arm was broken, and his shoulder was scratched in a way that might scar. She remembered them saying that they feared it might not grow right anymore, though that didn’t come to pass, and he ended up stronger than ever.</p><p>She remembered the night she lost everything, and she remembered the night they did too.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It was the first time Katara saw her brother struggling and didn’t immediately go over to help him.</p><p>He wasn’t crying, only gripping the pencil so hard it would inevitably snap and chewing on his free thumbnail, despite how she’d already seen him wrap a bandage around it four times due to the bleeding. Normally, Kya would’ve stopped him from doing anything, but she didn’t that day. She <em>couldn’t</em> that day. So, Katara didn’t either. Instead, she stayed where she sat, her chin on the bench and her hair falling in her eyes. She didn’t know where her dad got to, but she couldn’t be bothered to look for him either. She couldn’t be bothered to do anything.</p><p>Until she heard the snap of a pencil and the first choked sob to escape Sokka’s lips and suddenly, she felt the urge to talk to him.</p><p>Katara didn’t bother to smooth out her dress when she stood up, doing her best to avoid looking at the color of it. It wasn’t the same shades of blue and purple she was used to, but something else. Something darker and scarier and which made her want to hurl. She took a deep breath as she moved to sit down beside Sokka. At first, she wanted to drape an arm around him the way their mom did, but Sokka shifted away. He wouldn’t so much as look up at her, sniffing as he moved to draw his next line. She couldn’t decipher one word on the page.</p><p>“Are you okay?” It wasn’t Katara who asked, but her brother, his voice thick and his eyes wide and glossy. She only shook her head, trying to drown out the sounds of the adults in the other room. “Me neither. I wanted to— I wanted to try and write something for Dad, but I can’t— it’s not working. I’m trying really hard but everything I write just comes out <em>wrong </em>and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t—”</p><p>It was hard to watch him shove his hands over his eyes, swiftly shaking his head. Sokka didn’t believe that it was okay for him to be sad anymore. Katara figured that out quickly. Ever since he was discharged, since it all happened, he never stopped being the strong one. He never stopped looking out for her. He never took one little moment to himself, just to make sure that he was okay too.</p><p>“It’s okay.” Katara didn’t know what to say anymore and she knew that it wasn’t okay at all. It couldn’t be okay. But there was one little thing that <em>was </em>okay and that was that Sokka was struggling. He was allowed to struggle. He was allowed to have a hard time because it was the hardest time in the world and if he wasn’t allowed to hurt then no one else was ever allowed to hurt again. “Do you want me to help you?”</p><p>“No.” Despite his refusal, Sokka’s voice cracked. He shook his head quickly, sniffing again and clutching the pencil in his hand. It was turning an unnatural color, close to breaking, but Katara didn’t try to stop him holding it. She still had the bag of extras with her if he needed it. “I need to learn to do it on my own. I already <em>did </em>do it on my own and I don’t know why I can’t— I don’t know why I can’t do it anymore. Mom showed me how to do it and I can’t and now I’m failing her because I’m—”</p><p>“Please don’t say ‘stupid’. Mom never thought you were stupid.”</p><p>It was for selfish reasons that Katara cut him off. She was afraid that if he kept going, she would end up getting angry at him. For disrespecting their mom, for ignoring all the kind encouragement she’d given them over the years. Sokka needed to think of himself more highly, even if it was hard, because that was what Kya wanted. That was what their mom wanted, and it didn’t matter if Sokka didn’t want it or it was hard because they were going to do right by her.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” said Sokka quietly. He blinked away the tears in his eyes, staring back down at the words in front of him. “I know I shouldn’t say that. It’s just… I don’t know if I can do this anymore. Mom was the only reason that I learned how, and I don’t—”</p><p>The only reason Katara didn’t hug him right there and then was because he’d already pulled away once before. She sighed when she realized the pencil in his hands had quietly broken, reaching into her bag for a new one. She offered it to her brother silently, but Sokka only shook his head again, refusing to take it. Katara opened her mouth so she could ask if he needed help to but realized he probably still wouldn’t want it and instead took initiative on her own.</p><p>Admittedly, it wasn’t easy deciphering what Sokka was trying to write. His hands were shaking badly, tears were clouding his eyes, and he was definitely relapsing in the same way Katara did by sucking on her fingers for comfort. She managed to work out most of it, though she had to poke Sokka’s shoulder to understand a few of the particularly messy words. She didn’t ask about the one that was smudged with a wet spot. Her sleeves held the same kind from brushing off her own cheeks.</p><p>Neither of them spoke aside from when Katara had to ask for clarification on the words. They just sat there quietly, Sokka bouncing his leg up and down and chewing on the remnants of his left thumbnail, while Katara did her best to write enough for the both of them. She wasn’t really good at spelling or big words yet, but she tried hard. She wanted it to be perfect and even if it couldn’t be that, she wanted it to be as good as she could make it. Katara only pulled her gaze from the table when she heard the door open and turned to see her father standing in the doorway.</p><p>“Hey.” Hakoda’s voice was low and sad, and he still walked with a slight limp; one hand resting across his stomach. He smiled to his kids, but it was clear that it was forced, the last of the light leaving the room when he closed the door behind him. “We’re almost ready. You guys doing okay?”</p><p>They must’ve been wearing expressions that captured the fact that they weren’t because Hakoda didn’t wait for an answer before running over to them. He knelt down at their sides, wrapping an arm around each of them and pulling them in close. Katara couldn’t stop the tears that flowed down her cheeks and Sokka struggled to keep his in as he gripped onto the back of his dad’s shirt. He choked back a sob, burying his head in his dad’s neck, and Katara did the same.</p><p>It hurt. It hurt more than anything had ever hurt before, but it felt a little better when she was held in her family’s arms. With Sokka at her side and her dad holding her close, it almost felt like things might be okay. It hurt and it was scary and weird, and she didn’t know how in the world they were supposed to move on but Hakoda seemed <em>so sure </em>that he could help them, and it convinced her. It convinced her that, if nothing else, they would be okay for one day.</p><p>“What were you two working on?” asked Hakoda gently, keeping his arms around them as he looked to the paper behind his kids. Sokka mumbled something into his shoulder but Katara couldn’t tell what it was and apparently, her dad couldn’t either. “Sokka, hey. What did you say, bud?”</p><p>“I was writing scribbles,” he answered shifting his head so his mouth wouldn’t be buried in his dad’s coat anymore. “I forgot how to write again. I wanted to— I wanted to write something for you to say to everyone but I couldn’t get the words to look right and Katara had to do it for me and I felt stupid but Katara said I’m not supposed to say I’m stupid because Mom didn’t think I’m stupid and—”</p><p>“Okay, I got it. Deep breath.” He took a long, exaggerated breath for his children to follow, and they both did so the best they could. “I know that this isn’t easy, and I want to say that it’s going to get easier but right now, I can’t promise that. What I <em>can </em>tell you is that we’re going to try. We’re going to keep staying with your Gran Gran for a while as we figure things out and after that, we’ll go back home and you can get back to school and everything, okay? It’s going to be all right.”</p><p>“I don’t want to go back to school,” said Katara, clinging to him tighter. “I want to stay with Gran Gran. I don’t ever want to go back to that place again.”</p><p>Hakoda didn’t say anything right away, and in the end, chose not to elaborate on that topic at all. Katara was relieved. After seeing what happened in their old house, she had no interest in ever returning to it. She even refused to go with her dad to collect some of her things, unable to walk through the room where it happened. Where her whole life came crashing down around her in the blink of an eye. Hakoda pressed a kiss to the top of each of their heads, letting out a breath before spoke again.</p><p>“You said you wanted to write something for me to say?” he prompted, but Sokka didn’t respond. Not with more than a nod which was mostly hidden by his dad’s shoulder. “Let me take a look at it. Maybe I can help you guys finish.”</p><p>Sokka hesitated before pulling away, but he did so, shaking his head when Katara tried to move first. His gaze lingered on the paper for several long seconds before he grabbed it and turned back to look at his dad, holding it out for him to read. Rather than reading it right there, Hakoda slid back from his kids, taking his newly free hands to hold the paper. He said nothing as he read over the words, his eyes welling with tears as they moved back and forth across the page.</p><p>Of course, being young as she was, Katara’s first instinct was to think she’d done something wrong. It had to be something to do with what she’d written and not with what Sokka intended to be said because he would never write anything that would make their dad cry like that. He would never write anything that would upset someone else or hurt them and it looked like that was what happened. Katara wanted to say something, but she held her tongue. Her dad could tell her off when he finished reading, and then he could explain what she’d done wrong.</p><p>But when he finally lowered the paper, Hakoda did not say a word. He didn’t yell, didn’t speak, didn’t scold; he just reached his arms out and pulled his kids in for another embrace. Hugging them close and tucking them down into his shoulders. Katara held him back, sniffing more than she wanted to as Sokka did the same beside her. She knew that it was going to be a hard day, but she didn’t realize just how much she would cry until she was sitting there having to face the reality. To face everything she’d wanted to hide from since it happened.</p><p>To face the fact that her mother was gone.</p><p>Katara didn’t cry right after it happened. She cried while it was happening, but when she was sitting in the hospital, a bandage around her ankle as she waited for her dad and brother, and the inevitable news that her mother was gone, she was numb. Emotionless. She was too young to fully process what happened and too traumatized to communicate it. Police tried to speak to her. Doctors tried to speak to her. All she could do was nod along because she couldn’t think about it anymore.</p><p>She believed for a while that Sokka wasn’t in the same place. That he didn’t care. But then he started sobbing because he couldn’t remember what happened and somehow, their dad determined that forgetting was his mind’s way to process what happened. Katara wished that she could forget too. That she could purge the things she’d seen from her mind so she would never have to see her mother’s lifeless body again. She tugged at the necklace around her neck, nuzzling deeper into her dad’s arms.</p><p>“It’s perfect,” said Hakoda finally, his eyes closing as he let out another long breath. Katara could tell that he was trying to be strong for them, but he was cracking on the inside. That he was just as hurt by the loss as either of them were, and it was taking everything for him to keep it all inside. “You know what? I think maybe you kids should come up there and read it with me. You deserve a chance to talk about her too.”</p><p>“I can’t,” Sokka whispered, his chest rising and falling heavily and his breaths utterly shallow. “I don’t like standing in front of people. It scares me.”</p><p>“Okay. That’s fine. You don’t have to, I just wanted you to know that if you’d like to do it, you will always, <em>always </em>be allowed.”</p><p>“I want to try.” Katara’s declaration must’ve taken her dad by surprise because he shifted and looked to her oddly. “I want to read it for Mom.”</p><p>Hakoda accepted without hesitation. His eyes went wide when he glanced up at the clock and he guided his kids out the door, taking them to where they would speak. It was scary, walking out into that place full of strangers, with her mother’s body, and suddenly, Katara realized why their dad asked them to wait before. It was hard, overwhelming, and it took everything in her power to not turn and run out right there and then. She took a deep breath, looking to Sokka, who slid into a seat near the front.</p><p>At first, Katara was intending to follow her dad right up front, but she stopped when she saw the look on Sokka’s face. She let go of her dad’s hand, running over to her brother and giving him another big hug. Before she turned to walk away, Katara reached into her pocket and pulled out her little bag from the pocket on the front of her dress, which was filled to the brim with half-sized pencils and tiny little notepads. Sokka smiled when he took it from her, and even though it was a small smile, it didn’t look like it was forced that time.</p><p>Katara didn’t know if she could ever be okay after what happened. But having her brother there—waving goofy sticky notes at her when she got nervous—made it feel like maybe, one day, they could. And they would be.</p><p>Even if they had to go through a whole lot more pain first.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Glasses & Gobstoppers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was at some point during her fifth-grade year when Katara made the official emergency kit.</p><p>Back then, it wasn’t known as an emergency kit so much as a way to stop Sokka from stealing her things whenever he forgot or broke his own, but still. It all began rather spontaneously, following a lengthy rant from Katara about her brother’s forgetfulness and how he dealt with it by taking things from Katara’s backpack. It was justified, of course—considering he was a longstanding straight-A student, it was absolutely <em>mind blowing </em>to her that Sokka could never remember his things. He could rattle off the entire periodic table within three minutes, yet somehow, he couldn’t be trusted to remember everyday things like pencils, scrap paper, or even his gym clothes. As it hadn’t been going on forever—it got progressively worse starting a few weeks after their mom died—Katara concluded that Sokka <em>must </em>have been forgetting things intentionally just so he could prank her and determined to put an end to it.</p><p>For the most part, the whole thing was a joke. It was just a small bag filled with sticky notes and writing utensils which she stuffed into her backpack each morning. Aang suggested she start bringing those items after she’d complained one too many times about Sokka stealing hers, while Toph suggested she put some sort of passive-aggressive note on it for when he tried to steal them regardless. Though Katara only rolled her eyes at the time, she ended up packing the little bag that very evening, after Sokka came up and stole <em>more </em>of her pencils that afternoon. She was fine with it when they were little kids, but he was almost <em>twelve</em>. He needed to get over it at some point.</p><p>By Toph’s suggestion, on the bag she used a permanent marker to write the words, “For When He’s Being a Dumbass”, so that Sokka would understand <em>exactly </em>why she kept it around. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to have quite the effect she was going for, as Sokka didn’t even react when he first looked at it. He merely took it out of her backpack, grabbed the pencils he was looking for, and moved right on his way. Katara wanted to slap him, but she held back. He was probably just used to her shenanigans at that point.</p><p>For the next two years, she continued to pack the bag with more and different things, depending on what Sokka was prone to forgetting at the time. At first, Sokka kept laughing at the different things she put in her bag, which only helped to further her theory that he was making the whole thing up to mess with her. But then he moved into high school on his own and the forgetfulness didn’t stop. Since her, Toph, and Aang were a grade behind him, they talked through the group chat most of the day, and the amount of times he mentioned having no pens, paper, etc., was <em>ridiculous</em>.</p><p>Still, Katara didn’t think it was that big of a deal, especially after he she met his new friend Suki. She questioned whether Sokka was okay, claiming that Katara’s prodigious older brother was apparently acting tired, fidgety, and kept asking for extensions on assignments for reasons he couldn’t explain, but Katara told her not to worry. Sokka <em>always </em>claimed to be exhausted and he’d had those weird mannerisms since they were kids. Asking for extensions wasn’t that weird either, since he was probably just going above and beyond on his projects. After all, even with the things Suki said, his grades were still as high as ever.</p><p>Until they weren’t.</p><p>Katara was coming back up from the basement when she heard her dad get home from work. She’d been gathering more sticky notes for the emergency kit, as she’d recently graduated to ninth grade and Sokka was back to his old habits. Once, she confronted him about it, asking why he couldn’t go to their other friends sometimes, but Sokka argued that she carried around the extra stuff for him anyway so it would be a waste not to take it. That was true, she supposed. She kept the bag filled for when he needed it, finally realizing that Sokka wasn’t pranking her, he was just a serious scatterbrain. At least, that was what she thought. Everything took a turn when Hakoda opened his mouth and spoke with one of the most concerned tones she’d heard from him in ages.</p><p>“Hey, you all right, bud?”</p><p>She froze dead in her tracks when he asked the question, feeling just like a little kid eavesdropping all over again. She peered around the doorway to find that Sokka was still sitting at the kitchen table with his book, while Hakoda was standing close to him with an open envelope in his hands. Sokka looked rather confused by the situation, while Hakoda’s eyes were filled with worry. Torn between not wanting to listen in, not wanting to interrupt, and not wanting to be left out of the loop, Katara stayed where she was; gripping onto the pack of blue sticky notes from downstairs.</p><p>“Uh, yeah.” Sokka shifted awkwardly in his seat, clearly clueless as to why he was being asked. He glanced down at his textbook for a moment before turning his gaze up back to his dad, hesitating before he said a word. “I was just working on an assignment for AP physics. Why? Did something happen?”</p><p>“You tell me.” Suddenly, Hakoda dropped the paper he was holding, and it floated down in front of Sokka. His brow furrowed as he read it, a strange look crossing his face when he turned to his dad almost guiltily. Hakoda cut him off before he could say a word. “I’m not upset with you, Sokka. I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything bothering you. I haven’t seen your grades take a dive like this in years.”</p><p>Katara’s jaw dropped and suddenly she felt awful for listening in on the conversation. After his struggles with overcoming dysgraphia, Sokka pushed himself <em>hard </em>to become top of the class. He was basically a genius; a ridiculous fast learner, a seriously hard worker, and had a crazy aptitude for everything to do with math and science. A low grade was unheard of for him, and even as she listened to them talk, Katara couldn’t stop herself from imagining they couldn’t be lower than an A-minus.</p><p>“No, I know. I’m sorry.” Sokka sighed and dragged a hand over his tied-up hair before lowering it to chew on his thumbnail. He stared at his dad for several long seconds before he shrugged, his gaze shifting downward. “I’ve just been— I don’t know. Sorry. I’ll get them back up again.”</p><p>“Sokka.” Hakoda’s tone was gentle as he slid another chair away from the table, sitting down beside his son. Katara momentarily wondered whether she could sneak around to her bedroom but realized there was no way out without revealing that she’d heard everything, and that would only make things worse. “I meant what I said, all right? I’m not mad, I just wanted to know if everything is okay. I know you were nervous taking so many AP classes this year, and if you want to drop some of them, none of us are going to—”</p><p>“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He grabbed his things suddenly, shoving his own chair back as he moved away from the table. “I’ll get my grades back up by next quarter, okay? Sorry, Dad. I know that I— it won’t happen again, I swear. Sorry.”</p><p>Hakoda rose at the same time Sokka did, trying to get his attention, to get him to listen to what he wanted to say, but Sokka didn’t give him the chance. He turned and walked right down the hall, the sound of his bedroom door closing and locking behind him echoing not long after he vanished. Exasperated, Hakoda dropped back into his chair at the table, slowly shaking his head as he looked over to the report card in front of him. Finally, it was safe for Katara to come out of the basement, hoping no one noticed she was listening in. Thankfully, Hakoda seemed utterly oblivious, and only smiled sadly as he folded up the paper containing Sokka’s grades before she could see how far they’d fallen.</p><p>Though he stayed in his room for the remainder of the afternoon, they did get Sokka to come back out for dinner, at which point he was acting completely fine. In fact, he was so totally average that Katara almost forgot anything happened at all until the day the emergency kit gained a new item; also known as the day they decided to make a joke out of the fact that Sokka had developed another, even more forgetful habit—leaving the house without his contacts.</p><p>His vision wasn’t that bad. It was bad enough that he needed the contacts but from what he said and the numbers Katara remembered, it wasn’t a big deal so long as he wore them. But he didn’t. Somehow, despite the fact that he couldn’t see his own hand without them—he was heavily farsighted, she knew, and though he could see what his <em>teachers </em>were writing without his contacts, he couldn’t read one goddamn word on his own page—and struggled the moment he realized he didn’t have them, Sokka continuously forgot his contacts, which was where the game came in.</p><p>After he forgot them three times in one week and Toph revealed she’d been keeping count, her and Aang decided to make a page of tally marks for how many times he did it for the remainder of the school year. It was funny, at first. Katara and Suki even made bets on how many they’d end up with, but after they hit twenty-seven and launched into a teasing session that Sokka walked away from, Suki pulled Katara aside and suggested she add his glasses to the emergency kit. Unfortunately, Toph overheard that and decided to make <em>another </em>game out of it, which was to track how many times he requested them.</p><p>Regardless, Katara agreed that it was a good idea to keep Sokka’s glasses in her kit for when he needed them and surprised him the next time he forgot his contacts. He was too clever, however, and caught wind of the game within days. He rolled his eyes each time Aang took down another tally mark or Katara held them out before he could even ask. It was fun for a while, but then he stopped laughing about it. Sokka wouldn’t ask for his glasses anymore, even when he clearly needed them. He wouldn’t snort when they joked about how many tallies he’d racked up in their increasing categories of forgetfulness. Eventually, he wouldn’t even eat lunch with them anymore; claiming he was using the time to work on some project in the science lab.</p><p>They day he stopped sitting with them at lunch was the day they stopped making jokes about his scatterbrain. They didn’t know for sure if that was why he’d stopped hanging out with them so much since his attitude regarding the situation seemed to be such an abrupt switch, but they kept their mouths shut just in case. Katara had a feeling there was something going on that she didn’t know about, a reason aside from working on his supposed project to avoid his friends, but she couldn’t prove anything. Not until the day Sokka reluctantly came up to her at her locker and requested his glasses, only to refuse them and storm away when Toph called for Aang to draw another tally. Suki tried to go after him first, as the others voiced their regret for the ill-timed joke, but Katara requested space to speak with her brother alone.</p><p>“Sokka, wait!” She didn’t catch up to him until he was already halfway up the stairwell, and only got him to come back down by holding out his glasses. Sokka sighed and walked over to take them, trying to immediately turn around once they were on his face. Katara reached out to grab his wrist, unwilling to let him get away. “Hey, are you okay? You know they were just joking around. It’s not a big deal.”</p><p>“Yeah, for you,” he snapped. Instantly, a look of regret washed over Sokka’s soft brown eyes, and he crossed his arms before biting down on his thumbnail. Normally, Katara would’ve called him on the bad habit, but she knew it wasn’t the right time. “I get that you’re joking, okay? It just gets old. I <em>know </em>I’m forgetful as fuck. I <em>know </em>I’m a serious scatterbrain. I <em>know </em>I take shit from you guys all the time because I’m so hopeless I can’t even remember my own pencils. Just leave me alone for once.”</p><p>He didn’t give her the chance to respond before he turned and ran back up the stairs, disappearing around the corner and leaving his sister wishing there was something else she could do. Unfortunately, without understanding exactly what was wrong, she didn’t know how to comfort him, and was forced to return to the lunchroom with the others. Immediately after sitting down, she asked them not to make the jokes anymore, and found that they’d already agreed to throw out the tallies. Katara was grateful for that, not wanting to elaborate on what happened in case Sokka didn’t want them to know about it.</p><p>When she got home from school after swim practice that night, Katara intended to apologize to her brother for what happened but found that he’d locked himself in his room again. She tried knocking on the door, only to get no answer and leave herself to assume that he’d put in his earbuds and cranked the volume up to a thousand like he always did, regardless of how hard she tried to save his eardrums. At a loss, Katara sighed and switched to a comfier, light blue sweatshirt before heading back out into the living room and flopped on the couch beside her dad. Hakoda smiled to her, his expression falling only when she turned to him with a questioning gaze.</p><p>“Did you talk to Sokka at all today?” she asked, hoping he would be able to provide her with better news than she was expecting.</p><p>Her dad shook his head. “He came out a little while ago to grab a drink, but he was blaring his music and reading something on his phone, so I couldn’t get his attention. Why? Something happen at school?”</p><p>“No, it’s fine. We were just pushing his buttons a little at lunch and I think we might have gone too far. I wanted to apologize but I guess I can talk to him later. Thanks, Dad.”</p><p>Katara forced a smile before she hopped off the couch, heading back to her room to get started on her homework. There might have been a lot going on in her mind, but that didn’t mean she could just blow it off; no matter how much easier that would’ve made things.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>After Sokka confessed that he didn’t like the teasing, everyone eased up on him. Toph still made a comment when they reached the fiftieth time he forgot to put in his contacts a few weeks later, but they all just laughed it off. He resumed hanging out with them as much as he once had, and Katara hadn’t heard anything else about his grades dropping, so she figured whatever was bothering him must’ve run its course and life was getting back on track. At least, until Suki pulled her aside after lunch one day, a very serious expression on her face. She waited until they were alone before she spoke, her tone no less intense than the look in her eyes.</p><p>“Hey, is everything okay with Sokka?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one else was listening.</p><p>“Yeah, I think so.” Honestly, all her confidence that Sokka was okay faded the moment Suki asked the question, but she didn’t have any recent evidence to the contrary and answered only with what she knew. “Why? Did he say something to you?”</p><p>“No, he’s just been acting kind of weird recently.” Suki hesitated before she went on, as if deciding whether she should actually say something about what was happening. “He’s been pretty normal around us, for the most part, but in class, he’s… I don’t know. He’s been turning in assignments late, skipping out on presentations, struggling a <em>lot </em>with his notetaking, and have you noticed how much he’s fidgeting? It’s fine if you don’t know, I was just wondering if there was anything that’s been bothering him that I could help with.”</p><p>“I don’t know. He’s been— I mean, I guess he’s been avoiding us a lot? Our dad and I, I mean. He pretty much just holes himself in his room, but he’s had a lot of homework with all his AP classes this year, so I didn’t think much of it. Do you think I should try and talk to him about it? I don’t want him to be upset if we did something.”</p><p>“It would probably be a good idea just to check in, yeah. I think I’m going to talk to him later too, but I don’t know if he’ll actually tell me anything about it. I’ll text you later if I find out anything, okay?”</p><p>The bell rang before Katara got the chance to agree, and they went their separate ways.  Suki did hold up her end of the deal, as promised, but didn’t learn anything from her conversation with Sokka. He just told her that he’d already talked it through with his teachers and he didn’t lose a lot of points on his late assignments, completely omitting the reason why he’d turned them in late in the first place. Katara didn’t learn anything either, though she did have a conversation with her dad about the same thing as Suki, asking whether there was anything he should be worried about, though he didn’t quite explain why. From what she could gather, his concern stemmed from the fact that Sokka had been spending more time in his room than anywhere else, though again, they agreed it was most likely because of his homework.</p><p>Somehow, they managed to make it another few weeks without any progress, as Sokka still seemed happy aside from the copious amount of time he spent in his room. According to Suki, he stopped skipping presentations after she talked to him, but it was unclear when he was turning in his homework as he never did it in front of the class. He’d also begun to blow off their group study sessions, claiming that he was too busy working on stuff to be able to take the time to meet his friends anywhere. So, of course, they tried bringing the study session to him and had it in Katara’s living room, but he didn’t come out of his room. Hakoda went over to check on him after their dinner was delivered, but he must’ve had his music up loud again because he failed to open his door. When they all collectively shouted—Toph’s idea—to get his attention, it only partially worked. Though he accepted a bit of food, he ducked right back into his room, refusing to come out despite the seemingly happy smile on his face.</p><p>After that, all of Sokka’s friends were worried about him, but it was Hakoda who watched him like a hawk. Katara caught him almost trying to read his son’s mind at the breakfast table and prodding him with as many questions as he could before Sokka inevitably locked himself in his room after school. He sent her texts throughout the day on occasion, asking whether Sokka seemed okay, and that was the weirdest part; he <em>did </em>seem okay. Aside from his fidgeting, which was more obvious than usual, Sokka was perfectly normal when he was hanging out with their friends. He smiled the same amount, he laughed the same amount—if she didn’t know herself that he’d been acting irregularly in his academic and home life, Katara never would’ve guessed that something was wrong and, at a certain point, she started to wonder if it wasn’t.</p><p>Though it <em>seemed </em>weird, Sokka did have a lot of homework to do and no amount of excuses could get rid of that. He was taking a ridiculous number of difficult classes and, honestly, if she were doing that, Katara would probably have to lock herself in her room too. That was probably the reason for his grades slipping too, as well as an explanation for the late assignments, because he just had so much on his plate that things slipped by. Regardless, he seemed to be doing a lot better as time went on, and she felt like whatever happened—probably an adjustment period, given the timing of the odd behavior—the worst of it had passed. He resumed hanging out with his friends after school, ceased doing weird things with his homework, and for a while, everything seemed to be back to normal.</p><p>And then the report cards came.</p><p>Katara found hers on the table in the front hall when she got home from debate that afternoon, opened as if Hakoda had already looked at it, and was proud to see that all her grades were as high as she expected. But then she turned and saw her dad sitting at the kitchen table, his head in his hands and his entire face fallen. Instantly, her thoughts jumped to the worst, and she feared they got bad news about something in another letter. An injured or ill family member, or something of the like. Her mind only latched on the real explanation when she noticed the other opened envelope sitting on the kitchen counter, printed with Sokka’s name on it. But that couldn’t be right, could it? Sokka was a <em>genius</em>. Yeah, he got some bad grades when he was learning to work through his dysgraphia, but almost never since then. Even when they slipped the first time, Katara was convinced they couldn’t have been worse than a B-plus. The look on her dad’s face said she was wrong.</p><p>“He’s failing.” Hakoda’s words were flat, his eyes neglecting to turn away from the sheet of paper which sat in front of him on the table. “Every goddamn class, he’s <em>failing</em>. The ones where he doesn’t have an F, he’s barely scraping Ds and Cs. I don’t— I don’t understand it. Even physics he has a damn C-minus, and that’s been his favorite class since he was seven. I don’t know what’s wrong. I can’t— I can’t get him to talk to me, but I <em>know </em>that something is— this is not happening because he isn’t smart or capable enough. It can’t be. Something else is happening, I just can’t get him to tell me what it is.”</p><p>Katara’s heart dropped into her stomach when she peered over her dad’s shoulder to confirm what he was looking at. Her brother, the nearly lifelong straight-As <em>genius</em>, was failing. Actually, seriously failing to the point where, if he didn’t pull it back soon, he’d probably end up going to summer school or else he’d have to repeat a year. Katara took a deep breath, staying silent for several long seconds as she tried to process the information in front of her. Finally, she was able to look to her dad to respond, asking the question that came into her mind the moment she realized her dad was just sitting there mulling it over instead of actually talking to her brother.</p><p>“Is Sokka home from fencing yet?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder as if he might walk in any second.</p><p>“He didn’t go.” Hakoda sighed and leaned back in his seat, slowly shaking his head. “He’s just been in his room since I got home. I wanted to talk to him about this, but… I don’t know. He won’t open his door, his phone is in here so I can’t his attention that way, and at this point, I think I’m just going to slide it under his door with a sticky note and see if that gets the message across.”</p><p>After several more attempts to come up with solutions resulted in nothing, Katara ended up doing exactly what her dad suggested and slipped his report card under the door with a small blue note reading, “<em>Dad wants to talk to you—not mad, just worried.</em>” She hoped he would respond to it. He didn’t. Katara knew that he took it because it was poking out from under the door before and it wasn’t anymore, but he didn’t come out. Not to talk to them, not to acknowledge the message, not even to eat dinner. At a certain point, Hakoda became so concerned that, despite Katara telling him it was useless, he went right up over to Sokka’s room and tried knocking on the door again; hoping they could get him to eat, if nothing else.</p><p>Predictably, Sokka didn’t open the door. They couldn’t even blame it on his music like usual because his phone was on the kitchen counter and his laptop and earbuds still on the couch. It hurt to know that Sokka was deliberately ignoring them, despite how much they pleaded for him to come out. They told him he didn’t have to talk, begging him just to eat something or let them know that he was okay, but there was nothing he would do. Not until two hours after dinner when Hakoda finally hit his limit and walked right back over to Sokka’s room.</p><p>Katara almost tried to follow him but stopped at the end of the short hallway behind him when he again knocked on the door. She opened her mouth, expecting to have to talk it through with her dad again when he placed his hand on the doorknob, but she didn’t. Shockingly, it actually opened. All that time, Sokka wasn’t answering, but the door wasn’t locked either. She stayed in her place when her dad moved into the room, nearly stepping behind him but stopping dead in her tracks when she saw him. Katara wanted to do something but chose to keep her distance, if only so she wouldn’t overwhelm her brother.</p><p>“Oh, god, hey.” Hakoda’s voice was more worried than upset, and Katara couldn’t resist leaning a little farther into the room. “Hey, Sokka. Look at me. <em>Sokka</em>.”</p><p>The sight was not pretty. Sokka was doubled over on his desk, his face covered by his arms as he leaned forward on a pile of textbooks, papers, and various writing utensils. Even from several feet away, his labored breaths and quiet sniffles were easy to hear as he shook his head, refusing to acknowledge his dad’s presence despite the reassuring hand on his back. Katara moved back against the doorway, not wanting to leave in case they needed her, but not wanting to get too close in case she made things worse. Not that there was much she could do either way, as the only movement from her brother was to bury his head deeper in his arms; not willing to so much as turn to face his dad, let alone talk to him.</p><p>“Sokka, please, I need you to look at me, bud.” The only response he got was another soft sniffle and a slow shake of the head. “Hey, it’s okay. Sokka. Listen. It’s okay. Nobody is mad at you. The only reason I wanted to talk was to make sure you’re okay. It’s all right. You just got to talk to me. I don’t know how to help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”</p><p>“I can’t do it.” His words came out half squeaking and half broken by sobs, each one muffled by the arms he refused to move away from his face. Sokka took a deep, shaking breath before he went on, his voice trembling badly. “I’m sorry I’m failing. I’m trying, I am, and I know what I’m doing but I can’t— I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”</p><p>“It’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with you, bud. You just have to tell me what’s going on. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Is it your dysgraphia? That bothering you again?” When Sokka shook his head another time, Hakoda finally nudged his shoulder himself, almost forcing his son to look at him instead of his desk. Sokka barely turned his head. “Please look at me. It’s okay, Sokka. Whatever this is, you can tell me. I’m here for you. We both are.”</p><p>“No, I can’t—” Sokka looked up for the briefest second, his eyes wide and bloodshot, but looked away almost immediately, as if he were struggling to keep his gaze on his dad. After registering the presence of his glasses on his desk, Katara realized he probably couldn’t even see Hakoda as more than a blur since he was so close but didn’t want to say anything and interrupt them. “I can’t focus. I’m trying <em>so hard, </em>but I can’t do it. I’m trying, I’m really, <em>really </em>trying but I can’t— I can’t do it. I sit in here for <em>hours </em>every night and I just— I don’t get shit done. And in class I don’t— I don’t even know. I just— I can’t listen. It doesn’t make sense and I try to take notes but I get stressed and I can’t read what I’m writing and I have to slow down and I get so deep in my own head, I can’t—”</p><p>“Hold on, take a deep breath, okay? You’re all right.” Hakoda wrapped an arm around his shoulders, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. “I told you from the beginning that if this is too much, it’s okay for you to drop a couple classes. Or if you want me to look into getting you a new tutor, we can—”</p><p>“<em>No</em>, that’s not the problem. The only reason my dysgraphia is even bothering me right now is because— you don’t get it. You don’t get it because it doesn’t make any sense. It’s stupid. Just leave me alone. I don’t want to talk about it.”</p><p>His voice hurt. It cracked and shook in a way Katara couldn’t remember hearing since they were children and he was working on his handwriting with their mom. Each time he sniffed, she had to resist the urge to run over and hug him. Sokka might have been her super annoying older brother but she was her super <em>lovable </em>brother too and she didn’t want him to hurt. That was the only reason she was able to keep herself from acting on her urges, because she knew their dad was already stressing him just by asking him questions and having two people on top of him wasn’t going to help. She swallowed hard and exhaled slowly, watching as Hakoda tried his best to diffuse the situation despite Sokka’s protests.</p><p>“I’m not leaving,” he said gently. He waited a moment before he continued, but Katara couldn’t tell if it was for his own benefit or for Sokka’s. “If you feel like I don’t understand what’s going on, then you need to tell me, okay? I’m here for you and I will listen to whatever you need to say. Just talk to me. Please. It’s okay.”</p><p>“I can’t—” Sokka struggled to get the words out, shaking his head again as he finally lifted it, resting his elbows on the desk. He pushed his hands over his eyes, briefly gripping the ends of his hair that was tangled and clearly messed with far too many times over the last few hours. “I can’t focus. I know what I’m doing, and I know I’m good at this stuff, but I can’t <em>do </em>it. It’s not even my handwriting, it’s just— I try to work on something or listen in class and I— I can’t do it. My mind just goes all over the place and I can’t remember anything, and I don’t know how to stop it. I thought it would go away but it’s just been getting worse and worse for <em>ages </em>and I can’t finish <em>anything </em>anymore. I’m not failing because I’m stupid, I swear. I just— I keep turning everything in late because I can’t get it done.”</p><p>“Okay. That’s— hey. Sokka, it’s okay. Thank you for being honest with me. Come here.” Hakoda reached out and pulled his son into a hug, which Sokka eased into within seconds despite his earlier reluctance. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to figure this out, I promise. Katara, can you get him some water, please?”</p><p>Katara nodded quickly and turned to do as she was told, the sight too painful to look at any longer. Given everything that happened over the last several weeks, the fact that Sokka was struggling shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but the way in which the news broke was too hard to witness. She took another deep breath as she went to get his glass of water, hoping beyond anything that her dad was right and Sokka would be okay again soon. There were a lot of difficult things she could deal with, but losing her goofball brother was not one of them.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Sokka was diagnosed with ADHD two weeks later.</p><p>Apparently, he’d been struggling with the symptoms for much longer than he let on; some of them dating back to elementary school but only getting really intrusive after their mom died. Both Katara and their dad kicked themselves for not doing something about it sooner, but Sokka put the blame on himself despite their protesting. After all, it was him who never told them how bad it was. Still, Hakoda refused to let him feel bad for not speaking up and offered him far too much to make him feel better after his diagnosis. Sokka declined most of it, but he did accept the ice cream Hakoda promised him from the little place beside the pharmacy. It made picking up his first prescription a bit less scary. Not that he admitted to being scared, of course, but the look on his face when he came home with it was nothing less than petrified.</p><p>With everything going on, Hakoda ended up pulling Sokka out of school for two weeks for medical reasons, and by the time he went back, everything was different. Sokka was on a new kind of medication that was supposed to help him with his focus, he would be attending therapy twice a week starting soon, and he was behind on <em>everything </em>because of how much work he’d already missed and how much he’d been away for. Luckily, he did have a doctor’s note, and most of his teachers were sympathetic to the situation and willing to give him a few extensions and extra credit options to make up for what he missed. Sokka stopped hiding out in his room after that too, often doing his homework in the kitchen or the living room instead, and allowing his dad to stop him when he got overwhelmed and his sister to help him write when he was having a really bad day.</p><p>For Katara, the hardest part was the secrecy of it all. It was all really new for Sokka, and he wasn’t ready for their friends to know about it. From what she gathered, he was embarrassed by all the things he learned were abnormal—his sporadic focus, constant fidgeting, and of course, terrible memory—though that wasn’t what he actually said. All he really told her was that he wasn’t ready to talk with anyone else about it, and Katara was okay with that. She understood it couldn’t have been an easy thing to deal with, especially at his age, but he was doing better.</p><p>The medications were helping a lot, and both her and Hakoda were there for him when he found himself struggling too badly to finish his homework. Slowly, he began to stabilize, and eventually, he adjusted to his new way of life. He wasn’t perfect in any way shape or form, and some days were still a lot worse than others, but he tried hard and Katara added a few more things to the emergency kit to help for when he needed it.</p><p>Obviously, the first essentials she picked up were fidget toys. Sokka rolled his eyes the first time she showed them to him, but ended up taking them so often, they rarely all ended up back in her bag. She also heisted and bagged a few of his pills for if he forgot them in the morning, which he did at <em>least </em>once a week (though, Hakoda was doing his best to help remind his son after realizing that a lot of his “forgetfulness” was actually just him getting distracted).</p><p>The things she was least sure about packing were the gum and hard candy, but he chewed on his nails <em>so much </em>and it drove her <em>insane </em>so she threw a bunch of that in the emergency kit to see it if would help him stop, and it did. He went for the gum at first, since that was what she offered him, though she found out after letting him to see what she’d added to the bag that everlasting gobstoppers were his favorite. When she gave him one of those, she didn’t catch him chewing on his nails for the rest of the day.</p><p>Though they avoided addressing what was going on for a few weeks, Katara had the feeling most of their friends had already figured it out by the time Sokka was ready to talk about it. Katara was made to explain what happened when he was gone for two weeks initially, though she hid the details of the situation and said only that Sokka would explain it in his own time. He wasn’t very good at the talking part, however, nor was he good at hiding it, and when he finally came right out and said what happened at one of their movie nights, everyone had already accepted the facts and threw support at him. Sokka answered a couple questions they had, declined offers for more help, and smiled a little too hard despite claiming no interest in a group hug. All things considered, it went pretty much perfect. Katara was just glad her brother felt better.</p><p>Feeling better didn’t mean feeling perfect, however, and so Katara kept the emergency kit on her at all times. Generally, Sokka only came to her asking for the same things that started the whole project—pencils, paper, bobby pins—but slowly, he got more comfortable asking for more specific things. The things that, when he asked for them, told Katara <em>exactly </em>what was wrong. She gave him the appropriately reassuring words whenever she handed those ones over. Sokka sometimes admitted that he wasn’t a fan of the fact that she was basically babysitting him and had been for years, but Katara reminded him each and every time that the only reason she’d put together the kit in the first place was because she was angry that he kept taking her hair clips and pencils. That made him smile, and she smiled too. Yeah, it was pretty silly that she carried around a little bag full of things just for her big brother, but what else was she supposed to do? Let him suffer without his things, or let herself suffer without her own? There was no other way for them to both win.</p><p>Despite how much better he’d gotten at managing his ADHD on his own, Sokka still struggled to talk to other people about it, especially on his worse days, and that was why Katara was so surprised the first time he asked if he could talk to her during the school day. Sometimes, he’d talk to Hakoda after they got home, or call him if he was just having an awful day and wanted to go home early, but for the most part, he just quietly asked Katara for something from her bag and didn’t specify why.</p><p>That day, however, he walked right up to her, asked for his glasses, then blurted out that he was having a “seriously shitty” day, couldn’t stop shaking, and four separate people had already asked him if he was all right which only made him <em>less </em>all right than he already was. Katara stared at him with wide eyes for more than a single second, his glasses still in her hand.</p><p>“Whoa, hey, slow down for a second.” She threw her hands up defensively, an alarmed expression on her face. “Are you okay? I mean, do you really just need your glasses, or do you want me to call Dad…?”</p><p>“No, I have a big test in an hour, I can’t miss it.” Though his tone sounded decent, Sokka brushed his hands over his eyes in a way that was clearly exhausted and mentally spent. Katara wanted to ask him if he needed to sit down or anything, but decided it wasn’t her place to make that call. It was his life, and he had to make the shots as he adjusted to the changes in it. “I just need my glasses. I’ve been dizzy all day and I didn’t even realize I forgot my contacts until English.”</p><p>“Wait, you’ve been dizzy all day?” she confirmed, finally handing off his glasses after realizing she was still holding them. “Are you sure you’re okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, no, I’m fine. I think I forgot to eat breakfast. It’s a side effect of the meds I’m on, I think. Reduced appetite or something, they said. I’m not even hungry, I’m just really dizzy.”</p><p>As she hadn’t heard of that particular side effect, Katara was not prepared for the situation she found herself in and knew right away that the emergency kit lacked what she needed. However, she did have a pocket filled with things for herself which solved the problem temporarily, though she still made a mental note to add to snacks to the kit when she got home. Sokka looked a little confused when she offered him the granola bar, but he took it from her anyway; likely not wanting to resist his highly protective sister. Not that he wasn’t equally as protective—she just wasn’t the one who needed help at the moment. She nodded to his mumbled thanks, zipping up that pocket of her backpack.</p><p>“Do you need anything else?” asked Katara, not yet closing the pocket with her emergency kit in it. “I have your fidget cube, or Ritalin if you think you need the extra dose today…?”</p><p>“No, that’s okay.” Sokka shook his head, hesitating before he went on, as if he couldn’t decide whether to elaborate. “I don’t want to take more Ritalin this early, it’ll just fuck me up. Do you have any gobstoppers?”</p><p>Katara nodded, glad that Sokka wasn’t completely ignoring his mental health in the way it looked like he might. She respected his choice not to take more Ritalin but wanted to make sure that he was still doing something to take care of himself if his day was really going so poorly. She dug through her little bag, still labeled with the slightly inaccurate, slightly insensitive words scrawled upon it, and held out the candy to her brother as soon as she found it. Sokka smiled gratefully, though he stuffed them into his pocket rather than consuming any immediately, waving the granola bar gently as if to assure her he intended to eat it. After that, he thanked her one more time before turning and heading off down the hall, disappearing around a nearby corner.</p><p>Admittedly, despite all the warning signs that had been prevalent since he was close to six years old, Katara hadn’t guessed her brother would ever be diagnosed with something as significant as he had. She knew the news wasn’t nearly as huge or scary for her as it was for Sokka, but it was still a seriously surprising moment when Hakoda returned from the doctor with his son three days after his meltdown, and informed her that he’d be getting tested for ADHD the following week. It all made sense when she started reading about it online, learning more about something she’d only truly heard about in passing, but it still took some time to get used to it.  Suddenly, Sokka was on medications, going to therapy to help him manage it better, and even though Katara was just there for support more than anything else, it felt like a really important job. Like she was carrying the load on her back the whole school day, though she didn’t mind it one bit.</p><p>The whole thing started out as a joke. She made the emergency kit because she was sick of Sokka taking her things and it seemed like a good solution. But it became more than that too. It became a way for her to help her brother through his bad days, a way for him to let her know something was wrong without having to really talk about it. It was a way for him to help himself feel better without all the stress of having to find a way to articulate what he was feeling. He could just say what he needed, and she would deliver. Katara <em>always </em>knew what he meant. She knew which feeling went to which object, and though some of them usually meant nothing at all—pencils, paper, even his glasses—there were a few she recognized right away. If he wanted a fidget toy, he was restless. If he wanted the gobstoppers, he was anxious. It was textbook, and though the whole thing began as a gag, she felt like it could go on for a while and decided never to dissolve the emergency kit until she felt that it was truly time.</p><p>After all, what else was she supposed to do? Just <em>let </em>him take the last of her bobby pins?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Necklaces & Notebooks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Over time, Sokka got a lot better at taking care of himself.</p><p>The medications worked their way into his system and built up to a point where he was able to focus more easily, he spent a few months in therapy learning and practicing healthy coping mechanisms with his dad (who also worked out a set of accommodations with the school), and overall, he was doing a lot better than before. That said, he still had his bad days, and so, Katara kept the kit around. She got better at reading the signs too, often handing things over to her brother before he even asked. The only problem was, as he started to get better at managing his ADHD, Sokka started to stop paying attention to other things.</p><p>It was during his junior year and Katara’s sophomore year when Sokka’s anxiety started to get really bad. Katara hadn’t really noticed it before, outside of when he had to make public appearances, but she wished she had. She wished she noticed the way he got so uncomfortable around crowds and strangers before he tipped over the edge and reached an all new low. A low she didn’t see coming. A low that neither Katara <em>nor</em> Hakoda saw coming, especially after Sokka had already been through so much.</p><p>They were sitting in the audience at his most recent robotics tournament, waiting for him to walk out. The entire rest of the team was there, but their leader was nowhere to be seen. Katara tried texting, as did his other friends, to see if he was working on something backstage before he came out, but he never responded. The minutes ticked by, his team got restless, and still, Sokka was absolutely around. Suki was the first one to suggest they go look for him, and it was for that reason she was the one to go with Katara on the search while Aang and Toph stayed behind to let them know if he showed up.</p><p>Unfortunately, they ended up not needing that. As it turned out, Sokka was not hard to find. It was the retching that led Katara to the single-stall restroom beside the gym, and the coughs and labored breaths which made both her and Suki’s faces fall. Katara looked to her friend for a moment before carefully knocking on the door, her heart dropping into her stomach when Sokka’s loud breathing stopped and he went all but silent. She swallowed hard, hesitating to make sure she chose the best words for the situation.</p><p>“Sokka, it’s us. Me and Suki.” She kept her voice low, but loud enough to be heard through the door. “Are you okay?”</p><p>“I’m fine,” said Sokka quickly, but his voice was hoarse and his breaths shallow when he finally allowed his lungs to resume their movement. Suki sighed, leaning back against the wall when Katara shook her head. Neither of them believed him. “I must’ve eaten something bad. I don’t think I’m going to be able to do this thing today. Can you let them know that I’m sick and I can’t—”</p><p>“Sokka, I can hear you crying.” It was Suki who said the words, her voice soft and gentle. She got nothing more than a soft sniffle in response, which Katara <em>knew </em>was accompanied by Sokka shaking his head, even if they couldn’t see it. She sighed. “Please, Sokka, Katara and I just want to help. Can you tell us what happened?”</p><p>“No. It’s stupid.”</p><p>“It’s not stupid,” Katara shot back, leaning against the other side of the door. She could hear Sokka shifting his feet around on the other side, but he didn’t stand up. He didn’t even consider going to talk to them. “Can you just come out, please? We only want to help.”</p><p>He hesitated. “No, if I stand up I’m going— I’m going to throw up again. It’s not locked.”</p><p>Katara didn’t wait. She reached out for the doorknob, her face falling though what she saw was exactly what she was expecting. Sokka was sitting on the floor beside the toilet, his knees pulled up to his chest and his palms resting on his forehead. His chest was rising and falling visibly, his sniffles the only sound aside from the tournament in the distance. Katara sat down beside him, trying to ignore the icky floor as she reached out for his hand, pulling it away from his face. He barely looked at her with the one eye she revealed.</p><p>“What happened?” asked Katara quietly. Sokka only shrugged, turning his gaze back toward the wall. Of course, even after all that time, after a thousand reassurances and promises that she would always be there for him, Sokka still didn’t want to open up. Sometimes, Katara hated how damn stubborn her brother was. “Sokka, please. I just want to help.”</p><p>“I don’t know why.” Sokka was genuinely struggling to breathe, but Katara’s hand on his shoulder seemed to help, if only a little. He swallowed hard before going on, taking in a deep breath, and glancing over to where Suki stood in the doorway. “They told me they wanted me to— they wanted me to present our— I just broke. I don’t know. I was so excited to do it and I planned everything but then it was time to go out there and I— I couldn’t <em>breathe</em>. I just felt sick and stupid and somehow I ended up here and I— sorry. Can’t breathe.”</p><p>“Try to take some deep breaths.” Suki took a step forward, exaggerating her own breathing and moving her hands in a motion Sokka was meant to use as a guide. She knelt down in front of him, reaching out for his hands and squeezing them tightly. He squeezed hers back. “I know it feels like you’re out of control of yourself right now, but you’re not. You just have to pull it back, okay? It’s just an anxiety attack.”</p><p>“No.” He shook his head, closing his eyes and not releasing the grip on her hands. “No, it’s not. I don’t have anxiety. I— I guess it was listed as a side-effect and maybe I’ve always had a problem with public speaking and talking to strangers, but I don’t— I don’t have anxiety.”</p><p>“It’s okay. <em>Breathe</em>.”</p><p>“I can’t. I’m such a fuck-up. I— I just abandoned my team because I’m so selfish and it’s so dumb, I— I should have gotten over this <em>years </em>ago even back when I was like six and I dropped out of that spelling bee but I haven’t and it’s so bad, I didn’t even— I didn’t even speak at my own mom’s funeral. How fucked up is that? Dad asked me to speak and I said no because I was too scared to stand in front of everyone.”</p><p>“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Katara wrapped an arm around his shaking shoulders, her own heart stinging from his words. She hated the fact that Sokka felt guilty for something like that. For something he couldn’t control. It reminded her too much of herself. “It’s not selfish, Sokka. It’s a natural fear response. If you don’t want to go back out there again, you don’t have to. Or if you do, and you want to just stay quiet, I’m sure everyone will understand.”</p><p>“No, I can’t. I can’t go back out there.” Sokka blinked rapidly, clearly trying to blow away the tears that he couldn’t brush away with his hands still clinging to Suki’s. “It’s not even about the public speaking, that’s not what started it, I just— this is so fucking stupid, I’m sorry.”</p><p>His words hurt to listen to, not just because of how self-deprecating they were, but because of the tone he used and how much pain it conveyed. Katara thought that her brother was doing better, but the truth was, he was just suffering in a different way. His hair was a mess slipping out of his wolftail, his team sweatshirt was rumpled as anything, and his leg kept bouncing up and down like he hadn’t taken his meds in a week. It was hard to watch and almost impossible to listen to, but Katara forced herself to stay, to be there for him when he needed it.</p><p>“I don’t know what’s going on,” she started, “but I know it’s not stupid. You don’t have to worry, Sokka. We’re not going to judge you for anything you say.”</p><p>“I broke my necklace,” Sokka confessed. He pulled away from Suki’s hands, pushing his palms over his eyes before reaching into his pocket. After a second, he pulled out the choker—or rather, its pieces—and handed them to Katara. “I fucked up in practice earlier and I landed weird and I broke it and it’s so, <em>so </em>stupid but not having it on me is making me so fucking uncomfortable, I can’t—”</p><p>“Wait, here. I can fix it for you.”</p><p>Again, the sewing pouch Katara kept in her bag had nothing to do with the emergency kit, it was only something she had in there for herself. Sometimes, she needed to stitch something up on the fly, or she found herself bored during break and decided to work on her embroidery. That day, the various strings and threads were what saved the day. She carefully re-threaded Sokka’s necklace, sliding each piece onto the new string before tying it together and handing it back to her brother. He hesitated before taking it, pulling it back around his neck.</p><p>Instantly, a feeling of relief washed over him, and it was so prominent that Katara felt it too. He let out a deep exhale, his eyes closing as he allowed his hands and his leg to relax. Suki sat back on her feet, Katara’s shoulders losing their tension when Sokka’s breathing finally started to return to normal. Not one of them said a word for what must’ve been a good two minutes, each recovering from the situation and doing their best to calm down. Sokka was still the worst off of them all, but Katara handed him a water bottle and the drink seemed to help a little.</p><p>“Sorry for being so stupid,” Sokka mumbled, his eyes still closed as he gripped the water bottle between his hands. “And sorry that I keep saying I’m being stupid when you already told me I’m not. It just— it <em>feels </em>stupid.”</p><p>“I know it feels stupid.” It wasn’t Katara that said it, despite wanting to. Suki spoke up first, reaching a hand around Sokka’s again. She gave him a reassuring smile when he looked up, his eyes wide and bloodshot. “I used to have a lot of anxiety attacks before I met you guys—a lot of anxiety issues in general, really—and I know how it feels. Stupid. Pointless. But it’s <em>not</em>. It feels real, so it is real, and you never have to be ashamed of it. I’m always here if you want to talk and I know your dad and Katara are too.”</p><p>“She’s right, Sokka.” The tears in her brother’s eyes were hard to look at, but Katara refused to turn away. She didn’t want to risk making him feel any worse about himself when he was already cracking so badly. “We’ve been here for you during everything. Whatever happens, we’re always going to be here. I promise. Nothing could ever push us away.”</p><p>Sokka nodded, but there was something off about his posture and the way he gripped his fingers around the bottle. It was almost like he was still hiding something, like he hadn’t said everything that was bothering him, and Katara desperately wanted to ask. She took a deep breath, opening her mouth to say something, but stopped when Sokka handed the water back to her and pushed himself to his feet. He offered his hands to help Suki and Katara stand up, then moved to the sink to wash his face off while they waited in the hall. Katara saw how long he looked at himself in the mirror. The self-hatred in his expression was unmistakable.</p><p>He didn’t say more than a few words on their way back to the gym, but Suki and Katara kept talking to help him stay calm. It seemed to work for the most part, though Sokka still looked pretty freaked out and when he stepped toward the door to the gym, he completely turned around. He backed into the wall across from the door, his knees almost buckling below him and Suki and Katara’s hands on his biceps the only thing stopping him from crashing. It was like another anxiety attack all over again and it took a few minutes to get him to calm down.</p><p>They ended up sitting in the hall for a good ten minutes before Sokka felt ready to stand up again. Katara sat on one side of him while Suki leaned against his other, gripping one of his arms reassuringly and trying to help him breathe. Most of what Sokka said while they sat there was repeated apologies, as if his anxiety attack were some kind of burden or something to be ashamed of. Suki told him over and over again that it wasn’t and Katara offered him anything from the kit if he needed it, but he refused. All he wanted was to go back in the gym, he claimed, so that was what they did.</p><p>Katara’s heart was still racing when she slid back into her seat between her dad and Aang. When asked, she told them she would explain later. She didn’t know how to properly express what they’d just been through, and the bleachers during a robotics event was no place to discuss it; no matter how badly her dad’s expression was begging her to let him in.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The anxiety only got worse after that day. Sokka tried to be a little more open about it so it wasn’t as terrible as it was that one afternoon, but there were times when he wouldn’t go to his after school clubs at all or chose to sat on his own at lunch when he was having a really bad day. For the most part, Sokka seemed to be able to handle himself just fine, but occasionally, he would just shut down and lock himself in his room for hours. When he did that, Hakoda had to stand outside talking to him for a good ten minutes to get him to come out and eat, and sometimes, it didn’t even work then.</p><p>Sokka wasn’t losing weight. At least, it didn’t <em>look </em>like he was losing weight, but he was definitely not getting the nutrition he needed. It was his fencing instructor who first reported the issue of lightheadedness, and the school nurse who got Hakoda to bring Sokka home because of it. He wasn’t eating, but they couldn’t figure out why. He wouldn’t answer questions, but he would take whatever food they gave him and eat it right there. Which meant the problem was that he didn’t <em>want </em>to eat, but that he didn’t care whether he did. Sick as it made him, he was perfectly content having nothing.</p><p>The third time he was picked up from school due to the same symptoms of illness, Katara came home to find him asleep on the couch. Hakoda was on the chair beside him, a book in his hands but his concerned gaze turned toward his son. Katara’s eyes went to the same place. Sokka didn’t look good. He had a pillow squeezed between his arms, his head buried in the cushions and frizzy, loose strands of hair spilling over his forehead and his cheek. Even asleep, it was easy to see that he was shaking slightly, and Katara almost wanted to go and give him a hug regardless. She turned to her dad instead.</p><p>“He’s been out pretty much since we got home,” said Hakoda softly. He sighed, shaking his head before saying anything else. The look in his eyes wasn’t just concern, Katara realized suddenly, it was regret. “I really thought he was doing better. I— I thought we made it to a point where he could finally be okay, but that’s just not happening, is it? And I don’t even know what it is anymore. His writing looks great, his ADHD’s been fine, it’s— I don’t know what to do for him anymore.”</p><p>Katara opened her mouth to say something but couldn’t find any words. She didn’t know what to do either. She didn’t have the faintest idea how they were supposed to help Sokka or what was even wrong with him, no matter how badly she wished she did. So, instead of trying to say anything, she just walked right over and gave her dad a big hug. Hakoda softened when she did, and she knew right away that he needed it just as much as she did. That he was scared, maybe even more than she was.</p><p>They ended up spending their afternoon in the kitchen, making a stupidly complicated stew just to get their mind off Sokka’s struggles for a little while. It wasn’t easy at first and they didn’t talk a whole lot, but they started to loosen up after a while and eventually, they were even laughing. Katara was happy helping her dad in the kitchen, and he was just a mess chuckling at every ridiculous mistake he made. He was great at cooking meat, but he was not exactly sharp when it came to the vegetables and those ended up being Katara’s department.</p><p>It was almost an hour later, at which point they were making akutaq—Katara’s idea, because she wasn’t ready to stop when they finished the stew—when Sokka finally woke up and stumbled into the kitchen. He didn’t say anything, a brown blanket still draped around his shoulders and his hair even sloppier and frizzier than before. Rather than asking, Sokka grabbed a spoon and shoveled out a fat scoop of the unfinished dessert. Neither Katara nor Hakoda said a word as he flopped down at the kitchen table. She knew they were both just relieved to see him eating of his own accord.</p><p>“Hey, bud,” said Hakoda, walking over to sit beside Sokka. He didn’t get a response, just sleepy eyes staring down at the tabletop. “You feeling any better?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Sokka mumbled. The fact that he was chewing on his lip instead of his food was nothing short of concerning. Katara resisted the urge to say anything, wanting to give him space to open up in his own time. “I think I’m just sick. I feel like shit.”</p><p>He slid his hand and his now half full spoon away, leaning forward to press his forehead against the table. Hakoda reached around to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, though Sokka didn’t move so it was impossible to tell whether it helped at all. In his defense, Sokka did genuinely look ill—his skin a little clammy and his eyes unable to stay open—but Katara wasn’t sure whether that was really because he was sick or because he wasn’t taking care of himself. She turned back to finish the dessert. If he would eat that, at least it was something.</p><p>“You want to take some meds?” Immediately, Sokka shook his head, rejecting his dad’s offer. It wasn’t surprising. Ever since he started taking the Ritalin, Sokka had been pretty much opposed to adding anything else. Katara didn’t ask why. “Okay. Well, dinner is going to be done soon. Maybe you’ll feel a little better if you eat something.”</p><p>“Okay.” He sniffed, brushing his hands over his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. For a second, Sokka was still, and then he shoved the whole end of his spoon in his mouth. He turned to Katara, one hand turned in a thumbs-up gesture as he nodded in approval. Katara snorted. “Actually, I think this might be the cure, but I’m also going to need a lot more of it. Can you just hand me that bowl?”</p><p>Sokka stood up, the spoon in his left hand as he reached out with his right. Katara frowned and swatted his hand away jokingly, rolling her eyes when he stuck his tongue out at her and turned back to the living room. He mumbled something about grabbing his homework before disappearing into the other room, leaving Katara alone with her dad again. Hakoda only shrugged to his daughter. Apparently, he was pretty much sold with Sokka’s claims of illness as well.</p><p>Thankfully, Sokka was true to his word that time and did return with his homework only a few minutes later. He sat in the same seat at the table, not saying much as he worked on his things. Katara stuck to what she was doing until she finished and ended up doing her own homework across from him. It wasn’t that Katara necessarily <em>wanted </em>to do her homework there—she had a perfectly good desk in her bedroom—but that she didn’t want to leave him alone, even if Hakoda was right in the other room.</p><p>They sat in silence for a while before Sokka sniffed again and Katara looked up suddenly, her brow furrowing when she saw him clutching a pencil in that same way he always used to. It had been years since she saw one so close to snapping and yet, there it was. She could almost feel the pencil cracking under his knuckles, his fingers twisting around it in a way that would splinter if he didn’t stop. Katara reached out, placing a hand on top of his, and silently urging him to let go. Sokka looked up at her with bloodshot eyes before he nodded and released his grip.</p><p>“Sorry,” he said quietly, already turning his gaze back to his work. “I’m trying to draw these graphs for pre-calc and I just I keep messing them up. I can’t— they have to be exact and I can’t get them to— I just keep messing it up.”</p><p>It hurt to hear Sokka’s words not because he sounded self-deprecating or upset, but just because he sounded so utterly <em>done</em>. Like he’d gone through this so many times already and all he wanted was to be able to do it. Katara understood. After so many years of seeing him struggle, it only made sense that he would want it to go away. She opened her mouth to respond, then stopped. She flipped her own notebook to a new page, turning it around to face Sokka. He only blinked at it, making a face when turned back to her.</p><p>“Practice,” Katara told him. Again, Sokka didn’t respond, only reaching to twist his pencil around again. She sighed. “You’ve always said that it’s easier once you’ve drawn something a few times. So, practice. Draw the graphs on this page first and when you start feeling better about it, you can do it for real.”</p><p>He said nothing. Sokka only sat there for several long seconds, his eyes darting between his homework, Katara’s notebook, and Katara herself. Then, finally, he moved his pencil to write, and started. Sokka drew the same line six separate times, continuing to look up to Katara, who kept turning away so it wouldn’t seem like she was staring. She couldn’t help wanting to see whether her brother was doing or feeling any better. Especially when she knew he was having a bad day already.</p><p>Though she was honestly doubtful whether it would work, Sokka slowly eased into a pattern that seemed more comfortable for him. He traced the lines several times on the scratch paper, repeating the same motions over and over again before moving back to his book. Katara almost thought it would get annoying or frustrating at some point and he would simply give up, but he never did. He just kept working at it slowly, all the way through dinner and when he had his dessert too. Once or twice, it seemed like Hakoda wanted to ask him whether he needed help, but he never did. Just smiled whenever Sokka looked up. Katara was proud too.</p><p>After his immediate problem was solved, the only issue Sokka was grappling with was whatever illness had befallen him. Despite how well he was doing on his homework, the process was <em>slow</em>, mostly due to the quantities that he had to get done. By the time he finished, they’d moved to the couch, Katara watching TV and their dad long since gone to bed. Sokka leaned back against the couch where his sister was laying, and she shoved his head forward playfully when his wolftail tickled her arm. He feigned offense.</p><p>“You know, I really thought I would grow on you at some point,” said Sokka, leaning forward and smoothing out his frizzy hair. She snorted, rolling her eyes without one hint of regret. “Just because I’m your older brother doesn’t mean you have to hate me, you know.”</p><p>“I don’t hate you. I just think you’re ridiculously annoying sometimes.” Katara let out a sigh, shifting in her seat and propping her head up on her arm. She wanted to keep the joking going, but she needed real answers too. “Hey, are you sure you’re okay, Sokka? You’re really just sick?”</p><p>“No.” Immediately, Katara slid back, her eyes widening a little at the answer. Even if there <em>was </em>something wrong, she hadn’t expected Sokka to actually tell her about it. He hesitated for several long seconds before going on, not turning around to look at her. “I mean, I think I’m definitely sick, but… I don’t know. I just don’t have any motivation anymore. I don’t know why, I just… sometimes I don’t even feel like getting out of bed. I just don’t care anymore.”</p><p>And then her concern shot through the roof because that was the very last thing she wanted to hear her brother say. That he didn’t care, not just about one thing, but about <em>everything</em>. She could take it if he said he didn’t care about a class or one of his hobbies, but it wasn’t that simple. He didn’t care about <em>life </em>and that was something she didn’t know how to deal with. She didn’t even know where to begin, or how to convince him that it would be okay. Katara sat up slowly, sliding down on the floor beside her brother. He glanced over at her before turning his gaze to his feet.</p><p>“How long have you felt like that for?” asked Katara gently, placing an arm on his shoulder.</p><p>Sokka shrugged, twisting his fingers around in his lap. Katara was tempted to go grab one of his fidget toys from her bag but chose not to. She didn’t want to leave in case he decided to elaborate, or if he just wanted the company. Sitting there, she did realize that he must’ve been honest about his illness, because he was warm in a way she couldn’t attribute to anything other than a fever. Common sense said she should keep her distance and not get sick, but her sisterly instincts told her she had to stay.</p><p>“I don’t know,” Sokka mumbled, reaching up to chew on his thumbnail. Again, Katara had to hold back, not wanting to intrude on his boundaries despite the unhealthy coping mechanism. “A while, I guess. Maybe a couple weeks. It wasn’t that bad for a while, and now I just… I don’t know. It’s—”</p><p>“Stupid?” When Katara said the words, all her brother did in response was nod, even his blinks oozing with guilt. It was her and Hakoda who told him he should never say he or his feelings were stupid, and suddenly, she felt bad about that. They hammered it into him too deeply. The sentiment became counteractive. “It’s okay, Sokka. I get it, and your feelings are valid, but you don’t have to think you’re stupid around me. I know you. I understand.”</p><p>“That makes one of us.”</p><p>It was such a simple sentence, but it managed to capture everything Sokka had been feeling for years and suddenly, Katara understood better than she ever had before. Sokka didn’t know why he did the things he did. Especially before he’d been diagnosed—with both dysgraphia <em>and </em>ADHD—he just struggled. He went about his days with these issues that other people didn’t have, and he had no answer as to why he was different. He still had no answer as to why he was different. Why he panicked where other people were fine. Why he was sad when everyone else seemed okay. Katara wrapped her arms around him tightly. She didn’t know why. It just felt like the right thing to do.</p><p>Sokka leaned into her shoulder, sniffing softly as he slid his blanket around her shoulders too. That was all it took for Katara to get emotional too. Her mother’s old blanket wrapped around her, her brother shaking and sick at her side…</p><p>Katara brushed away the one tear that slid down her cheek. She had to be strong for him that night.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The hardest part about Sokka’s confession was that it didn’t change anything.</p><p>Literally, nothing happened after he told her how he felt. Yes, Sokka was unhappy. No, he was not acting any different outside of the house. Yes, Sokka struggled to get out of bed sometimes. No, he did not make that evident at <em>any </em>point in his day-to-day life. He joked around, messed around, got the highest grades in the class, and then went home and took what could only be described as a four-hour depression nap. Katara went to wake him up a few times, bringing things she thought would be helpful, but it never really worked.</p><p>She almost had to upgrade her kit after adding the pocket notebooks and thread, but she managed to make it all fit. The only problem was that nothing in there seemed to be helping Sokka the way it used to anymore, and she couldn’t find the things that would. Katara looked everywhere, trying to find <em>something </em>that could cheer him up, but nothing worked. He still took a few things every now and then, when he really needed his glasses or sketch paper, but it wasn’t enough. He still crashed at the end of the day, whether it was in his room or on the couch, and they couldn’t get him to talk about it.</p><p>Hakoda was the first one to really sit down and approach Sokka, and Katara wasn’t even there. He told her a little bit about it later when she asked—because Sokka was missing, she noticed, and she wanted to know if anything happened while she was at practice—but not the whole thing. Katara knew that Sokka took a while to open up, and that he admitted to being sad, but Hakoda wouldn’t tell her how it ended. No matter how much prodding she did or how much eavesdropping she tried, she couldn’t get a straight answer as to how their discussion ended and eventually, she realized it wasn’t her dad’s fault.</p><p>It was Sokka himself who didn’t want her to know about it. She could tell by the way he went quiet when she asked how his day was or if he’d talked to their dad for any reason. He would only nod or shake his head and walk away, like he didn’t want to elaborate on it anymore. And the fact that Sokka and their dad seemed to be growing a distance between them didn’t help at all. Hakoda was still trying to talk to his son, but whatever happened while Katara was gone caused a serious rift and Sokka wouldn’t listen anymore. Whenever Hakoda tried, Sokka left. He wouldn’t listen at all.</p><p>After seeing that happen far too many times, Katara decided to take things into her own hands. She waited until Hakoda was gone—gone to visit Bato, which meant they’d be talking for hours—then waited for Sokka to get home, gave him a big helping of akutaq, and sat down with him on the couch. She didn’t say anything at first, turning on the TV for sound and waiting yet again for Sokka to get comfortable. A good ten minutes passed before she finally got the nerve to open her mouth, and then she saw the tired, sad look on Sokka’s face and ended up waiting another five before she actually pulled the trigger.</p><p>“What happened with you and Dad?” she asked suddenly.</p><p>The problem with pulling the trigger was that there was <em>no </em>introduction to the question, she just asked a highly personal question about something Sokka clearly had no interest in talking about without giving him so much as a warning. He froze where he was sitting on the other side of the couch, hesitating for a long several seconds before even turning to look at her. Sokka’s expression was flat and unreadable when he turned, and Katara found herself at a loss for what he might say. The waiting became difficult to bear at that point, and it took a lot to keep herself from asking again.</p><p>“I told him what I told you,” said Sokka quietly. He didn’t look at her when he spoke, his teeth chewing on the tip of his thumbnail and his eyes staring at the floor in front of him. “Well, mostly. I told him… a little more. I guess. We kind of had a disagreement, and I guess I’m not quite over it yet. That’s all. It’s not a big deal.”</p><p>“It is a big deal. You’ve never had a fight like this with Dad before.” Sokka dodged her gaze, shifting away when Katara tried to move closer. His entire posture was turning closed off; his arms dragging into himself and his knees sliding up to his chest as he tugged at the blanket around his shoulders. “Sokka, I’m not trying to accuse either of you of anything, and if you really don’t want to tell me, it’s okay. I just want to know what’s happening because I’m worried about you guys. I don’t like being in the dark.”</p><p>“Well, maybe it’s better you’re in the dark for this because it’s not really something you should have to deal with. And even if it were, I really don’t think I can deal with the two of you ganging up on me right now. I just need you to be my annoying little sister, okay? Not my mom.”</p><p>Katara’s heart skipped a full two beats. That was a line she never expected him to cross and even though it wasn’t meant to be hurtful, it made her heart <em>break</em>. Katara wasn’t trying to replace her mother. She never wanted to do that, she just wanted to make sure Sokka was okay because he didn’t take care of himself like he was supposed to. He didn’t watch out for himself like he was supposed to. Ever since he was a little kid, Sokka was funny and smart and kind but he was self-deprecating as <em>shit</em> and without the reminders, she didn’t know how to help him.</p><p>“I’m not trying to replace Mom,” said Katara softly, unable to say anything else.</p><p>“I know,” Sokka assured her, the guilt pouring out of him not just in tone, but in body language too. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I just— it’s not about you, okay? I— I talked to Dad about everything and I told him about how I don’t have any motivation and I don’t like myself or my life and I— he thinks I should go back to therapy again.”</p><p>“For your ADHD?”</p><p>“For depression. Probably anxiety too.”</p><p>Only the biggest idiot couldn’t have seen that bombshell coming from a mile away, after everything she’d seen Sokka go through, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. Katara swallowed hard, staring at her brother and the way his shaking fingers clung to the blanket around his shoulders and tugged it closer to him again. She ached for a hug but knew it wasn’t the right time, that Sokka’s posture was only getting more defensive by the second and invading his space wouldn’t help anything, regardless of how much she wished that it would.</p><p>Neither of them said anything for too long. Sokka turned his head to the left, looking away from his sister, and Katara just stared down at her hands in utter silence. He was right, of course. The moment he made his confession, Katara was ready to side with their dad. He needed the therapy. But he clearly didn’t want it for reasons she absolutely understood and because of that, Katara didn’t know how she was supposed to get through to him. She didn’t know how she was supposed to do anything to help. Instead, she decided to consult the only thing that always knew how.</p><p>Technically, the emergency kit wasn’t prepared for that particular situation and it hadn’t been all that useful in the last few weeks, but she gave it a shot anyway. She dug around in her backpack—which was thankfully close by since she was doing homework earlier—and pulled out the little bag, searching for something, <em>anything </em>that might make Sokka feel better. That might make either of them feel better. She ended up finding it in the weirdest of places; the world’s smallest uno deck and a bag of candy from their Gran Gran.</p><p>“Do you want to play?” asked Katara hesitantly, knowing full well that Sokka would probably refuse. Oddly enough, he nodded. Katara handed him the bag of candy before dealing the cards, and Sokka took a piece, twisting it around in his fingers before eating it. “You can tell me about it if you need to. I won’t make you.”</p><p>Sokka opted to go for the second option. He said nothing, only messing with the cards in his hands and staring at the stack in front of them. They played one round without a word, two rounds without a smile, but by the fourth round, Sokka was cheating so much that they couldn’t stop laughing. He kept trying to look at Katara’s cards, putting down ones that didn’t work, and arguing the moment his sister said anything about it. It was ridiculous and annoying, but Katara felt a little better. A lot better. Sokka was smiling and laughing again and that was her favorite way to see him. Happy.</p><p>Multiple times, Katara noticed Sokka’s gaze fall and him open his mouth, like he wanted to say something, but he never followed through. He said nothing until they made it through a dozen rounds of the game—some of which ended early thanks to his terrible cheating—and they were both just flopped on the floor, arguing over whether they were going to play anymore. Sokka’s interjection came out of absolutely nowhere, his comment arriving in the middle of one of Katara’s explanations for why exactly what he was doing counted as cheating.</p><p>“I’m scared of going to therapy.” He blurted out the words more than anything else, his expression sinking and Katara’s falling just as fast. She had been smiling, laughing as she tried to show him why what he was doing was unfair, but her entire posture crashed when he spoke. Sokka turned away before saying anything else, fiddling with the cards in front of him. “I know it doesn’t make any sense because I already went but I don’t ever talk about this stuff and the idea of having to sit down and tell everything to a complete stranger really, really scares me. That’s why I was fighting with Dad. I don’t want to go.”</p><p>Katara started to say something but cut herself off before she could. She didn’t know <em>how </em>to respond, or what in the world she was supposed to tell him. That she understood? That she was there for him? He already knew that. He already knew everything she could’ve said, and it made it so much harder to find a way to helpfully reassure him. Katara took a deep breath, trying to figure out what her dad would say, only to realize that he didn’t know either. That whatever he said made it worse and if she wanted to help, she had to find an entirely different approach.</p><p>“I’m not going to pick a side on this,” said Katara, staring down at her hands. She glanced over to Sokka, but he didn’t meet her gaze. Whatever was going on in his mind was keeping him from looking back. “Honestly, I think that therapy would be really good for you, but I absolutely understand why you don’t want to, so I’ll support you in whatever you do, okay? I know Dad is already pushing you in one direction so I’m not going to add on to that but if you need anything… I’m here. And I know I say that all the time, but I’m serious. If you need anything—help, or just someone to talk to—I’m always here to listen, okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, but that’s the problem, Katara, I—” Sokka snapped his mouth shut suddenly, shaking his head as he let out a breath. He said nothing for several seconds after that, blinking and looking to his fingers, twiddling his thumbs uncomfortably. “I think I need to talk, but I don’t know how. I don’t even know what it is I need to talk about anymore, it’s just— I don’t know. I’m just not happy. And sometimes it’s better, you know, but by the time I go to bed every night, I just… never mind. This doesn’t make any sense.”</p><p>“No, keep going. You said you didn’t know what to talk about, but I think you were getting there. What were you going to say?”</p><p>It took Sokka so long to resume his speech that Katara thought he wouldn’t go on. When he did, her heart cracked, and it was shattered by the time he stopped. He rambled on and on for almost an hour, Katara sometimes engaging and doing her best to keep him going when he felt like what he was saying was stupid. She offered him all the support in the world but did her best not to get in the way because she knew it wasn’t easy and she knew opening up was one of the most difficult things for Sokka to do.</p><p>When their dad finally got home, Sokka and Katara were neck deep into the conversation, reaching a point where Sokka’s eyes were badly bloodshot and he kept stopping mid-speech to push his hands over them. Hakoda didn’t even ask what they were talking about before he walked in—because, of course, Sokka snapped his mouth shut the moment he walked through the door—just knelt down in front of his kids and pulled them <em>both </em>into an enormous embrace. They didn’t talk about it any more that night, but they did the next day.</p><p>They didn’t manage to convince Sokka to see a therapist for another three weeks, but once they did, he took <em>huge </em>steps in the right direction. He stopped taking long naps after school, got out of bed earlier when he didn’t have somewhere to be, and smiled more genuinely than Katara had seen in months. Sokka was really doing better, and it was his family’s support that got him through it. Through his last two years of school and the title of valedictorian. Through college applications and hard decisions. Through his first job and everything that came with it.</p><p>But, of course, there was no magical fix to the curse that is mental illness, and the pain didn’t just go away.</p><p>Sokka still had bad days. Even when he reached a point that he was functioning fine without therapy, he sometimes shut down. It was the worst when he had large quantities of homework to do or was working on something particularly difficult, but he had some days where he was just sad with no reason too. Katara and Hakoda never judged him for that, they just sat with him in the living room while he read six books in a row and didn’t speak a word. The system worked. It made him feel better for the day, and by the next, he was usually doing okay. The only problem was that it didn’t work once he went off to college.</p><p>It came as no surprise that Sokka didn’t want to go to a local college. He was a literal genius and wanted to go somewhere that he could study advanced mechanical engineering, which ended up taking him over an hour out of town. Katara didn’t see him a lot when he left, but she missed him more than anything. She worried about him enough to call every day, but he assured her over and over that he was doing amazing. Thankfully, it seemed like that was really true. Like he was really okay without her.</p><p>She kept the kit around just in case. It was a painfully good decision.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Ritalin & Reassurance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was half past midnight when she got the call.</p><p>At first, Katara was annoyed and assumed it to be a wrong number. She’d stayed up late studying for her senior midterms and had only gotten about fifteen minutes of sleep by the time she was woken up. She ignored the phone, letting it go to voicemail as she rolled back over into her pillows. But then it rang again, and she forced herself to open her eyes enough to see who it was. Her heart dropped into her stomach when she saw the caller I.D., and she pressed the ‘answer’ button in a second.</p><p>“Sokka?” She hoped she didn’t sound annoyed, though her voice was thick with sleep. “Sokka, what are you doing? It’s one in the—”</p><p>“Do you have any Ritalin?”</p><p>It was just one of those days. One of those days where nothing he did was ever enough and no matter how damn hard he tried to turn it around, things only got worse by the second. Sokka would later confide in her that he thought it all spiraled the moment he opened his eyes and realized his alarm hadn’t gone off, making him late for his first class of the day and causing him to forget his medication. He wasn’t sure he was right, but he was sure that the entire day was miserable because he couldn’t focus and he was inexplicably unhappy and anxious to a point which got so awful, he ended up having to ask his professor to postpone the presentation he’d been working on for two months because his stomach was churning so badly.</p><p>“Sorry, I just—” Katara recognized his tone too well. The one that was on the edge of tears, doing whatever he could to keep his voice from cracking. “I forgot to get it refilled and I’m out and I know you saved some for when I’m being stupid and forget and I’m sorry it’s the middle of the night but I just— I really need it.”</p><p>The tears started around lunch time, she’d find out later. Sokka stepped out of class to throw up and his eyes had been red since then. When he finally got to go back to his dorm, all he wanted was to take a long nap, but he had too much homework and sat down to work instead of taking the break he so desperately needed. It was after an hour of failing to get anything done when he realized he never took his medications, and when he went to get them, he discovered he’d been so busy he forgot to get them refilled and chewed his nails down to nothing.</p><p>“Oh, shit, yeah.” And just like that, Katara’s voice went from mildly irritated to heavily concerned, already digging into her backpack for the kit. “I have about two weeks’ worth here, it looks like. I’ll be there as soon as I can and do <em>not </em>say you’re coming here because if you don’t have your meds, you can’t drive, and I’m not arguing that, all right? Are you okay? What happened?”</p><p>“Nothing, I’m fine. I’m just having a really shitty day.”</p><p>For the first time in months, instead of just working on one class at a time and cramming the best he could, Sokka opened two separate reports (one on his laptop, one on paper) and two entirely unrelated textbooks in front of him. His hands shook the whole time. He forgot to eat dinner. It was after accidentally scratching himself with a pair of scissors that Sokka’s thoughts drifted to a place Katara couldn’t imagine. To a place he’d never shared with anyone but his dad and his therapist. It was probably better Katara didn’t know yet. She would’ve driven too irrationally if she had.</p><p>“Okay.” Katara wasn’t convinced at all, but she didn’t want to argue with Sokka over the phone and momentarily accepted her defeat. “We’ll talk after you take your meds. I’ll be there soon.”</p><p>She was sure not only from his tone but from knowing him for her whole life that Sokka was already beating himself up for having to call her. Katara hoped he understood that she didn’t mind. That she was more than happy to be there for him whenever he needed someone. But when she showed up at his dorm, using her spare key to walk in the door, she found him in the worst place. The place she recognized too well. He was doubled over on his desk, buried in his arms and a pile of papers and textbooks. Sokka turned his head when she walked in but didn’t sit up. His brown eyes were bloodshot and tired, his hair half loose and frizzy as anything. Katara let out a sigh and went straight over to the desk.</p><p>The moment she handed over the bottle of Ritalin, Sokka breathed out a long sigh of relief. He took it gratefully and moved to down his pills with soda, only for Katara to take that bottle from him before he could. Her comment about him drinking caffeine at one in the morning was mostly a joke. Sokka was too tired to refuse when she went to get him a glass of water instead, her gaze lingering on his exposed arm when she walked back into the room. He was bleeding. It wasn’t a bad cut, but it was there, and it was surrounded by faded <em>scars</em>.</p><p>After Katara returned with the water and helped him get the bottle of pills open—he tried to refuse but his hands were just shaking too badly—Sokka was finally able to take his pills; almost immediately going back to chewing on his nail once he’d swallowed them. Katara didn’t pressure him to stop, no matter how much she hated the nervous habit. She stayed silent, sitting down on the bed, and giving Sokka time to process the medications and relax. There was no way to ask about the scratches, ink, scars, and dried blood on his arm without making things worse, so they had to be as good as they could get before she tried.</p><p>“Thanks for coming,” Sokka mumbled suddenly, his voice quiet and hoarse. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, staring down at the hand he wasn’t chewing on. The one at the end of the blood and ink. “Sorry I made you come all the way out here. You can just crash there if you want. I’ll probably be up the rest of the night working on this shit anyway. I left it all until the last minute and sometimes I can get extensions but I kind of pissed off my engineering professor today, so that’s… yeah. That’s not happening.”</p><p>“No, absolutely not.” Katara shook her head quickly, her messy braid tickling the back of her neck. She knew she was going into full mom mode, but she couldn’t help herself. “You need to sleep, Sokka. That was part of your problem today too, I’m sure. You and Aang had messages on the group chat at <em>four in the morning</em>. I know you’re trying really hard to take all these credits at once, but you have to take care of yourself. You know Dad is really worried about you, right? He thinks you’re pushing yourself too hard and I’m not trying to be annoying, but it’s— sorry, are you okay? Your arm is just—”</p><p>“Oh, shit, yeah.” As if he were suddenly very aware of what it looked like, Sokka yanked the sleeve of his sweatshirt down over his hand, dragging his hair back behind his ears. “No, it’s fine. I just nicked myself with some scissors and my mind was all over the place and I guess it got a little out of hand. I don’t know. I was drawing on myself for a while and I scratched myself a bit but it’s not— it only bled where it was an accident, and I didn’t— I used to cut myself in high school.”</p><p>Katara froze. Maybe it was a bit of an exaggeration, but she felt like her entire body shut down for a good ten seconds. The confession came out of absolutely nowhere and it had an impact on her more serious than she could express. She thought they helped him. She thought that they were there for him enough and that even when he was hurting, he had the support he needed to be okay, but she was wrong. Sokka wasn’t okay. Even when she was living in the room right next door to him, he wasn’t okay, and there was nothing she could do to change that.</p><p>“Sorry, that— I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t— I— I don’t know why I just told you that.” The look on Sokka’s face was almost guilty, but Katara couldn’t figure out why. He was being honest. He was finally telling the truth after so many years of hiding from it. That was nothing to be ashamed of. She started to tell him that but didn’t get the chance. “I’m, uh, I’m just going to get back to work. You should try and get some sleep.”</p><p>“No, Sokka, you can’t just say something like that and tell me to go to bed.” Her own voice was shaking, and it took a little too long to pull it back. She swallowed hard, sliding over to the edge of the bed, and giving him the sincerest, most reassuring look she could muster. “Are you okay? Were you…?”</p><p>“No! No, I mean, I… sort of. It really was an accident tonight. It was. I was just frustrated, and my hands were shaking, but then I— I wanted to. I almost did. I put the— I put the knife on my arm and I just kind of held it there for a while and then I was thinking about what you and— what you and Mom always said. That it’s not stupid. That I couldn’t write, I mean. And then I got the marker and I started drawing instead but I, uh— I scratched myself. After I called you. I felt bad for waking you up, I guess. You know, I’m— I’m eighteen, I shouldn’t—”</p><p>“Sokka.” Katara said his name bluntly, firmly, and didn’t go on. Several seconds passed before Sokka finally got the memo and looked up to meet her eyes, blinking unnaturally and still nibbling on his left thumbnail. “I cannot possibly stress this enough. <em>It’s okay</em>. Just because you’re eighteen and you don’t live with us anymore doesn’t mean we don’t still care about you. We do. If you need <em>anything</em>, just tell us. Please. Please don’t hurt yourself again.”</p><p>The words slipped out of her mouth and she knew immediately it was the wrong thing to say. A whole new wave of guilt washed over his face, his gaze drifting down to the floor as he dropped both hands into his lap. He twisted his fingers around each other uncomfortably, barely registering the difference when Katara reached into her bag and slid a fidget toy into his palm. Sokka remained silent for a full minute, not looking up when she gestured to him nor reacting when she tried to offer him something else. The guilt and regret tore at her own stomach, and more than anything, Katara wished that she could take the words back.</p><p>It was always hard to know what to say but it wasn’t hard to know what not to. Katara <em>knew </em>that she wasn’t supposed to make requests like that. She <em>knew </em>she wasn’t supposed to say anything that would back him into a corner and cause the guilt to become even worse. She just couldn’t help it. She was so scared, so terrified that something bad was going to happen, that she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to deal with the fact that her brother had self-harmed for <em>years </em>and she never even knew about it. Thankfully, Sokka didn’t seem to be upset with her.</p><p>“It’s been seven months,” he told Katara, still unable to meet her gaze.  Instead, he shifted his eyes down to his arm, tracing every line of ink that was exposed on his wrist. “Sometimes I still want to do it. Tonight was an exception, but I— I usually call Dad. When something is wrong. He talks to me for a while and he gets me to put the knife down. I don’t always talk. I called him once a couple weeks ago and I couldn’t really say anything, but he knew. I didn’t— I’m trying really hard, Katara. I am.”</p><p>“I know.” Katara shifted forward again, trying to catch Sokka’s eyes, if only for a second. “I know you’re trying, Sokka. I do. I’m just so worried about you. When I saw you calling, I— I was <em>so scared </em>that something happened to you, and you have no idea how terrified I was when I heard you almost crying on the other end. I just want you to be okay, but I know it’s hard, and I’m here for you, even if I’m miles away. Okay? If you don’t want to call Dad or he’s not answering, I’m here. I’m always going to be here.”</p><p>“Thank you.” He nodded, lifting his thumb back up to his mouth. There was no nail left. It wasn’t possible after how long he’d been chewing on it. “I should’ve called you sooner. I’m sorry I woke you up so late.”</p><p>“It’s okay. Just make sure you get your prescription refilled, okay?”</p><p>“Okay.” Sokka almost resisted when Katara stood up and walked over to hug him, kneeling down beside his chair as she pulled him into her arms. He brushed away the tear that dripped from the corner of his eye, shaking his head before he reached his arms up to return the gesture. “What did I do to deserve a little sister like you?”</p><p>“Nothing,” said Katara, letting her eyes drift shut when she hugged him tighter. “Suki and I were sent down to beat the sexism out of you and somehow I got attached.”</p><p>The laugh that escaped his lips was worth every tacky word.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Sokka didn’t come to visit often, but Katara loved it whenever he did.</p><p>He would crack a joke the moment he walked in the door, laughing before he launched into whatever the ramble of the week was. He always had <em>something </em>to babble on about, usually regarding science but sometimes being about math too, and somehow, Katara actually loved listening to it. She used to get annoyed when Sokka still lived at home and he went on about things she didn’t understand, but not anymore. She was only glad to get to hear his voice again, to get to talk to him in person instead of over text or video chat.</p><p>The only problem was, of course, that Sokka seemed to think being home meant he had to be happy. They <em>knew </em>that he had issues, that he’d always had issues, but the moment he walked through their front door, Sokka was all about the jokes. He was happy to babble on about his work and his job and his friends but the moment Hakoda asked about his mental health, he shut down. He wouldn’t say a <em>word</em> about it, aside from claiming that he was perfectly fine, and everything had been going well.</p><p>Actually, the more they talked over his break, the more Katara realized that he wasn’t just avoiding talking about his mental health, he was avoiding talking about <em>himself</em>. He wouldn’t say anything outside of school, work, and the people Katara already knew. It was almost like Sokka was trying to keep his family life and his college life separate, but Katara couldn’t understand why. They’d been so close their whole lives, it didn’t make any sense he would want to shut them out like that.</p><p>But then she saw the text he sent to Suki and suddenly, she realized there was a whole side to Sokka they didn’t even know about.</p><p>It wasn’t anything bad. It was not anything bad and Katara could not <em>possibly </em>stress that enough, but it was unexpected. It was very, extremely unexpected, especially considering the fact that the text Sokka sent was to his <em>girlfriend</em>. At least, Katara thought Suki was his girlfriend. She had been pretty much since the last few months of high school. But after staring at the message for a good ten seconds and then throwing the phone back on the table because it was none of her business and she felt guilty as anything, Katara wasn’t so sure anymore. She wasn’t so sure about anything anymore.</p><p>Really, Katara should’ve said something the moment Sokka flopped back on the couch beside her. She should’ve told him that she glanced over when his phone buzzed and accidentally read a message which contained information he clearly was not ready for her to know. But, instead of doing that, Katara simply smiled and overcompensated, asking if he wanted her to make some akutaq and not waiting for an answer before she rose to her feet and retreated into the kitchen. She knew too much. She knew way too much. It wasn’t like eavesdropping when she was a little kid, it was flat out <em>snooping</em>.</p><p>So, of course, the situation then became even weirder because Sokka wasn’t only withholding information from Katara, Katara was withholding information from him. And, to add a whole other layer to it, they were really just withholding the <em>same </em>information; Sokka not realizing that Katara already had it, and Katara not knowing how to approach Sokka about it without messing everything up. Because of that, she ended up not saying <em>anything </em>about it. Not one word. It would be easier to just ride it out, she decided.</p><p>A month passed after Sokka went back to school from break and the distance only got weirder. Sokka kept messaging Katara, but she had a hard time holding a conversation because of how guilty she felt about what she’d done. Because she <em>knew </em>that if she talked to him, the truth would eventually come out, and she didn’t have the faintest idea how she was supposed to address it without hurting him. Without admitting that she’d betrayed his trust and saw something she was never meant to see.</p><p>They didn’t talk about it for six weeks after she found out. Not until Katara went to see Sokka on campus for completely unrelated reasons and they ended up wandering around town for a while. Sokka had said many times before that the town by his university was great, but it was the first time that Katara got to really visit it and she had a great time walking around. The only problem was that she had this <em>thing </em>hanging over her head. This secret she wasn’t supposed to know.</p><p>Sokka wasn’t stupid either. He knew that she was keeping something from him; she could tell by the way he kept looking at her, possibly in response to the way she was looking at him. All Katara wanted to do was tell him that it was okay. That he could tell her, and she wouldn’t think of him any differently. But she couldn’t say that because then he would know that she read his messages and that was just too much. For both of them. So, she kept her mouth shut every time she wanted to open it. At least, until they sat down in the coffee shop and the same mouth decided to initiate the conversation she knew they couldn’t have.</p><p>“So, how are you and Suki?” she asked, blurting out the words in a way that was <em>definitely </em>suspicious.</p><p>“Uh, fine, I guess.” The look on Sokka’s face was confused and at least mildly surprised by the question, but he didn’t seem like he was lying and Katara suddenly wondered if she misinterpreted things. “I mean, we don’t see each other as much as we want to with school and work and everything, but we text each other a lot, so it’s been going pretty well. We haven’t had any real fights yet or anything.”</p><p>“Okay, that’s good. I was just wondering since we haven’t really talked about it much. I mean, I talk to Suki a lot too, and you, obviously, but you two don’t really talk about your relationship a whole lot so I was just kind of— I know you’re into guys.”</p><p>His face fell faster than she’d ever seen it fall before. Sokka was halfway through adding extra sugar to his coffee when she spoke and stopped right in the middle of the action. He stared down at the drink on the table in front of him, his fingers squeezing the sugar in his hand and his eyes unblinking. His mouth opened and closed once or twice, his head shaking slightly like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, he just kept looking at the table in front of him, while Katara felt the guilt and fear building inside her.</p><p>The thing was, since that first time at the robotics tournament, Katara knew <em>exactly </em>how to recognize it when Sokka was on the edge of an anxiety attack. The way he fidgeted with his hands, stopped moving his eyes as he got stuck in his head, started losing the ability to breathe—he was exhibiting <em>all </em>the telltale signs and it was all Katara’s fault. He was freaking out and struggling to breathe because of <em>her</em>. She reached into her bag, looking for one of the things she knew would help him, but Sokka took one look at the bag and shook his head.</p><p>“Please let me help you, Sokka.” Katara’s words were almost desperate, one hand moving to reassure him, but Sokka pulled away. He shook his head again, blinking several times. She hoped it was only because of how long he’d been staring. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have— it was an accident. Your phone went off and I was sitting right there, and—”</p><p>“And you read it?” He took a deep breath, his words stunted by the lack of oxygen in his lungs when he went on too soon. “When— When was this? What the hell did you see on my phone?”</p><p>“When you came home for winter break. I barely glanced over, I don’t even know what it was and when I realized it was personal, I looked away, but I saw you were talking to Suki about how you— that you thought you were gay.”</p><p>“I’m not gay.” The way he spoke was too defensive. Katara reached out a hand again, but Sokka wouldn’t let her get close. He slid back even farther, his eyes wide and filled with fear. “I’m not— you read it and you just— you just didn’t say anything. For <em>six weeks</em>. You saw it and you knew and you just— what? You waited for the right time to <em>make </em>me tell you something you don’t even understand.”</p><p>“Yeah. I don’t understand because you won’t tell me about it,” snapped Katara. She <em>knew </em>she shouldn’t fight back like that, but she couldn’t help herself. Sokka was challenging her and she didn’t want to just back down. “I just don’t get it. Are you and Suki together or what? How long have you—?”</p><p>Sokka didn’t give her the chance to finish. He grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair, throwing it over his shoulder as he stormed out of the building. Immediately, Katara lifted her bag, running out the door behind him. Sokka was halfway down the street by the time she caught up to him, waiting at the crosswalk of a busy intersection. He looked down when she stepped beside him, refusing to acknowledge her presence. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, tapping his foot impatiently and glancing up at the passing cars as if waiting for an opening.</p><p>It was all her fault. Katara was the one who made him tell her. She was the one who forced him to say the words he wasn’t ready to voice. If there was a way to take it all back, Katara would’ve done it in an instant, but it wasn’t that easy. All she could do was stand there at his side as he refused to so much as look at her. Follow him across the street when the light finally changed, searching for the words that would make it all better, but they didn’t seem to exist. It was over. She messed up everything and there was no way to fix it.</p><p>Neither of them said a word the whole way home and when they got back to Sokka’s dorm, he flopped on the couch before she could try and talk to him. They sat there for too long. Sokka’s phone buzzed a few times before he turned it off completely, and Katara did her best not to look. She wasn’t going to look at anything he didn’t want her to see again. But she had nothing else to do either, and ended up just sitting there as he turned on science shows. Or rather, turned on the TV and left it to whatever it was already on.</p><p>“I love Suki.” His words were flat, the look on his face unreadable and his gaze still turned toward the screen. Sokka squeezed a throw pillow in his hands, a long silence falling between them before he said anything else. Katara didn’t try to interrupt. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think it mattered. It wasn’t anything serious, it was just— Suki said it was a ‘sexuality crisis’. I freaked and told her, she helped me, I got over it. That’s it.”</p><p>“But if you really love Suki, then what made you think…?”</p><p>Katara wasn’t necessarily expecting an answer but that didn’t stop her from asking anyway. She looked to Sokka as he kept staring at the show, his eyes not following a thing on the screen and his fingernails scratching at the fabric beneath them. He rested his chin on the top of the pillow, blinking without a word. Whatever happened didn’t seem to be something he wanted to talk about, and Katara was okay with that. She didn’t want to get in his space if he wasn’t okay with it. Not after what she did. She opened her mouth to tell him he didn’t have to respond, but he did before she got the chance.</p><p>“I just kept… looking at guys, I guess.” He tightened his grip around the pillow, biting down on his lip and not turning to look at Katara for a second. Sokka shook his head slowly, sniffing before he went on. “It’s not really a recent thing but I never thought much of it until I, uh, I had a crush on this guy. Kind of still do, actually, but I— I talked to Suki about it and we figured it out and… yeah. She’s cool with it, so that’s, uh… that’s a thing.”</p><p>“Okay.” It was the only word she could say after the wave of information. She didn’t know how to respond to it in a coherent manner, so she acknowledged it, and nodded. Really, Katara was just happy he felt okay telling her all of that. Even if she still had one more question. “But you’re still with Suki, right? Just to be really clear about that because I don’t think I’m quite following.”</p><p>“Yes, I’m still with Suki.”</p><p>“So, you’re with Suki, but you have a crush on some guy, and Suki is okay with that? She’s not jealous or anything?”</p><p>“No, she said it was fine.” Sokka shook his head again, hesitating as he dragged his fingers over the pillow. Katara reached into her bag and pulled out the kit, offering it for him to take. Sokka hesitated but dropped the pillow and reached in to replace it with a fidget toy instead. “She’s— you know, she’s cool with it. She’s bi and she— she helped me talk about it all and figure it out and I guess I’m— I’m probably bi too but I don’t really know. Suki said it was okay if I didn’t have a label figured out so I just kind of… I just started rolling with it. The text you saw was from the middle of my crisis. I think I’m over it now.”</p><p>“I’m sorry I pressured you to tell me that.” Katara knew that the words wouldn’t do anything. That they wouldn’t make Sokka feel any better after everything that happened, but she couldn’t just not say anything. She took a deep breath, biting down on her lip when all he did was shrug. “I’m serious, Sokka, you shouldn’t have had to tell me that.”</p><p>“Yeah, I should’ve. It’s time I stop hiding from everything anyway. We all know I have issues. I just never wanted to face them before.”</p><p>“Do you want to face them now?”</p><p>Sokka hesitated. “No. I just want a nap.”</p><p>Katara knew full well that was his way of coping when the depression became too much, but she didn’t call him on it.  Instead, she only watched as he shifted down into the cushions of the couch, his gaze staying on the screen in front of him. He needed a break and after everything she did, Katara could give him that much.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They didn’t talk for over a week after Katara went home.</p><p>She messaged Sokka a few times, asking how he was doing and trying to find out whether he was okay or if he was still upset with her, but he never answered. He left her on read a few times and then after a few days, just didn’t appear to look at his texts at all. Eventually, Katara just gave up, knowing that she messed up too badly and thinking that her relationship with Sokka might have been ruined forever. But then he found out he wasn’t talking to his dad either and she got a message from Suki asking what happened because <em>nobody </em>knew where he was, and that’s when she realized something was seriously wrong.</p><p>Hakoda went with her to see him that time. He drove a little too fast on the way there and Katara made a few too many calls, but neither of them said a word about the other’s responses. Sokka ignored every call. Missed every text. The moment Suki sent a message asking to ride with them, Katara told her dad to make the slight detour. Something happened and they needed to find him. Something happened and whatever it was must’ve went down days ago because he hadn’t been responding and a few quick checks showed that he hadn’t even shown up to class.</p><p>Given that she had the spare key, Katara was the one to push open the door to his dorm the moment they arrived. She froze in the doorway, staring straight ahead at the sight in front of her. The room was a little messy, as it always was, but it wasn’t out of place. Not except for Sokka; lying face down on his bed, stiller than a statue. Hakoda slid past her and Suki into the room, immediately kneeling down beside Sokka’s bed and shaking his shoulder urgently, begging him to wake up. Katara couldn’t so much as get her legs to move.</p><p>“Sokka. Hey. Look at me.” The fact that he was still trying meant he was either in denial, or it wasn’t as bad as it looked from afar. Katara swallowed hard. “Come on, bud. Open your eyes. I know you can do it. Just look at me. Please.”</p><p>The breath of relief that came out of Katara’s mouth when Sokka looked over his shoulder was one of the deepest she’d ever released. Up to that point, she didn’t know if he was okay. If he was even <em>alive</em>. But he was. He was alive and breathing, and even if he wasn’t okay, there was still the chance that he could be. The chance that once they got him talking, once he explained what happened, they would be able to help him feel better. Even for just one day.</p><p>“Hey, what happened?” Rather than responding to his dad’s question, Sokka only flopped back into the pillows. He didn’t get to pull the blankets over his head before Hakoda grabbed them, forcing him to keep his head up. Sokka turned into the pillows instead. “Sokka, please. We can’t do anything if you don’t talk to us. Just tell me what happened. <em>Please</em>.”</p><p>“Nothing.” Sokka was mumbling and that, combined with the fact that his speech was more directed at his pillow than anything else, made it hard to understand. Katara took a step closer, and Suki did too. Sokka didn’t react, nor did he seem to even realize they were there. “Leave me alone.”</p><p>“It’s not nothing, bud. We haven’t been able to get a hold of you in a <em>week</em>. Whatever happened, we want to help, but we can’t do that if you don’t tell us what’s going on. Please. You can just talk to me if you want. We don’t have to get anyone else involved but you can’t just sit there. You can’t just keep saying nothing is wrong when you’re obviously in a bad place.”</p><p>“No, I can’t tell you.” He was a little louder this time, more adamant, and almost commanding his dad to get away. He sniffed and shifted back into the pillows, clearly trying to cover his face as well as he could without suffocating himself. “I can’t tell you because if I tell you, you’re going to be disappointed in me and I already hate myself for it enough. I don’t want to drag you into this too. Just go home. You shouldn’t have to deal with me anymore. I’m not your problem.”</p><p>“You’re right, you’re not my problem, you’re my <em>son</em>.” Hakoda reached a hand on Sokka’s face, his fingers sliding across his forehead. If he had a fever, the expression on neither of their faces gave it away. Sokka shifted farther away. “Please, Sokka. Just tell me. Whatever happened, it’s okay. We’ve gotten through everything so far and we can get through it again, I promise, but you have to talk to me.”</p><p>A long silence passed before Sokka finally spoke and when he did, his words were too quiet for Katara to hear him from so far away. He didn’t sit up entirely willingly but Hakoda’s hug was too quick for him to escape. Sokka looked a little surprised when the arms wrapped around him, but he accepted the embrace gratefully, not returning it but squeezing the blankets around himself instead. Katara didn’t know what happened but she was dying to. She didn’t know what Sokka said but it was clear that it was nothing good.</p><p>She looked to Suki for answers because she was standing a little closer, but Suki only shrugged. Hakoda said something to Sokka, but again, his voice was too quiet, his words too low, and it was impossible to tell what he was talking about. That is, until Sokka reached a hand around the blanket to brush the back of his hand over his nose and she saw the gauze on it. His mouth wasn’t open long enough to tell a whole story. He couldn’t have said more than two words and those two words were obvious.</p><p><em>I relapsed</em>.</p><p>Suki was the one to quietly ask if it was okay before she walked over to sit on the bed beside Sokka, leaning back against the wall with him when he slid out of his dad’s arms. Sokka turned into her, resting his head on Suki’s shoulder, and accepting the hand she held out for him to take. Katara sat on the edge of the bed, watching them silently and searching for something, <em>anything </em>to say. She couldn’t find it. Something happened to cause this, there were no two ways about it. Something happened and he wasn’t okay, she just didn’t know what it was.</p><p>And then it hit her that Sokka stopped responding soon after she left and suddenly, she blamed herself for everything. He relapsed after she made him come out. After she made him talk about things he wasn’t ready to share with her. Katara’s eyes welled with tears and she looked to the others for only a few more seconds before rising to her feet and running out of the room. She should’ve offered to help him, to heal whatever damage he’d inflicted, but she couldn’t. She didn’t stop until she reached the stairwell, dropping her head into her hands and trying to take deep breaths to steady herself. She was fine. It wasn’t her fault. It was<em> fine</em>.</p><p>“Katara.”</p><p>It was her dad who sat down beside her, of course. He wrapped an arm around her shaking shoulders as she leaned into him, trying to stop herself from freaking out. If it was really her fault, Sokka would’ve told her to get out, right? But then again, he <em>had </em>basically ignored her, only talking to their dad, and only responding to Suki’s movements, so it was because of her. She did it. She caused his relapse. He was in there, hurting, bleeding, hiding out from the world, because of <em>her</em>.</p><p>“Katara, it’s okay.” She didn’t even realize she was crying until Hakoda brushed a hand over her cheek, gently urging her into his shoulder. “He’s going to be all right, I promise. I’m going to talk to him and figure out what happened, and I’ll find a way to get him some help, okay? It’s going to be okay. I know it is.”</p><p>“It’s my fault,” Katara admitted, babbling out the words before she could stop herself. “He had this secret and I found out about it by accident and I should’ve left it alone so he could tell me on his own time, but I didn’t. I made him tell me when I came to visit last week and that’s when he stopped responding to us. After I left. He hurt himself because of <em>me</em>, Dad. He relapsed because of <em>me</em>.”</p><p>“No. That is not true. Katara, whatever happened between you, it had nothing to do with this. These things just happen sometimes. It’s part of the recovery process. Sometimes you think you’re long past being done with it and then it comes back to bite you again. That’s not anyone’s fault, it just happens. It happens and it’s not anything to blame yourself for, okay? Deep breath.”</p><p>“But it’s the only thing that makes sense. I made him talk to me and then he dropped off the grid. Right after I left. It was because of me. Because I pressured him to talk about things he wasn’t ready for. How is that <em>not </em>my fault? How could you ever look at what happened and say I had nothing to do with it? It was <em>me</em>, Dad. He told me he didn’t want to talk about it and I—”</p><p>“It wasn’t you.”</p><p>Katara slid away from her dad when Sokka spoke up behind them. He was on his own, Suki leaning back in the doorway behind him, but not coming any closer. Sokka’s hair was a mess, frizzy around his exhausted face and his t-shirt and sweatpants wrinkled to hell and gone. Hakoda held out a hand for him to come sit down and he did, starting out at the stairwell instead of saying another word to his dad or his sister right away. Katara didn’t rush him. Not after her last mistake and the consequences of it.</p><p>“I don’t know what happened, exactly,” said Sokka, twisting his fingers around in his lap, “but it wasn’t your fault, Katara. I just… broke, I guess. I thought I was doing better, and I was wrong. I was wrong about everything and I don’t know how I’m supposed to come back from this because I thought I was okay and I— I’m sorry I ghosted you all week. I was just… ashamed, I guess. I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me.”</p><p>“We are never going to be disappointed in you, Sokka.” Hakoda wrapped one arm around his shoulders and the other around Katara’s, pulling them both in close. It was ridiculous that Katara was still tearing up when she wasn’t the one in such a bad place, but she couldn’t stop it, especially when she turned and caught a glimpse of the gauze around Sokka’s forearm. “We know how hard it is for you and we know how hard you’ve been trying to feel better. We’re not ever going to think less of you for taking a little step back.”</p><p>“But it’s not little because I don’t want to stop, I just want to do it again.” He looked away the moment both Hakoda and Katara turned to look at him, shifting his gaze back to his feet. “I know I should want to stop, but I don’t. It made me feel better. It got rid of the guilt. And I <em>know </em>that’s wrong, but I don’t know how to stop it, okay? I don’t know how I’m supposed to stop when it’s so easy to just—”</p><p>He broke off his speech suddenly, not resisting when Hakoda pulled him back into his shoulder. Katara wrapped her free arm around him too, pulling him in tightly. She needed him to be okay. Whatever happened, whoever was at fault or if it was nobody at all, she needed Sokka to be okay. She took a deep breath, reaching out for Sokka’s hand and giving him a squeeze. He slid away, pulling his arm in close to himself as if trying to hide the gauze.</p><p>“Sokka, whatever you need to get through this, we’re here.” Hakoda’s voice was gentle, reassuring, and even though it wasn’t directed at her, it made Katara feel better in the moment too. “If you need to come home for a while, or you want me to stay here for a bit, or help you find a new therapist, I’ll do it. I will do whatever it takes to help you, Sokka. You just have to tell me.”</p><p>“I’m fine,” said Sokka, though he still wouldn’t look up and that more than exposed his true mental state. “I just need someone to talk to, I guess. When I was at home, I was talking to you, and now I don’t have anyone to talk to anymore because everyone is far away and it’s not the same thing over the phone because you can’t— you can’t see me. If I try to do something, you can’t tell me to stop if I don’t force myself to talk, and it’s hard. It’s hard to tell the truth.”</p><p>“Hey.” It wasn’t Katara or her dad who spoke that time, but Suki. She knelt down beside Sokka on his other side, gently resting a hand on his shoulder. “You know you can talk to me whenever you need it, right? I’m only half an hour away. If you need anything, just call and I’ll come see you, okay? I don’t want you to hurt either and I don’t care when or why you need me. If you do, just… tell me. Please.”</p><p>“Okay.” He reached one hand up to grip Suki’s, using his other hand to drag a finger beneath his eyes. Katara didn’t point out how visibly exhausted he was, nor how badly bloodshot his eyes already were. “I’m sorry I never did sooner, I just don’t want to bother you guys. You all did so much for me back in high school and I don’t… I don’t want to be a burden on you again when you already—”</p><p>“You will never be a burden on us, Sokka.” Hakoda gave his shoulder a squeeze, smiling to Suki when she slid an arm around Sokka too. It was hard, having to see him in that state; broken, hurt, but they were there for him. He would be okay. “I told you. You’re not a burden, you’re my <em>son</em>. I will<em> always </em>be here for you. I don’t care what happens. You’re my son and I want to help you. I’m your dad. It’s my job.”</p><p>“I know.” Oddly enough, instead of looking to Hakoda, Sokka looked to Katara; biting down on his lip and hesitating before he finally asked his question. “Do you have your bag?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Katara nodded quickly, already pulling away. “What do you need?”</p><p>“Gobstoppers?”</p><p>It was the way he was clinging to Suki’s hand that gave him away. The way his fingers twitched and ached to reach up to his mouth, so he could chew on his thumbnail and let out the anxiety in that stupid, unhealthy way. Katara really appreciated how hard he was trying. That he was willing to go to her for help instead of indulging in things he knew hurt him. It wasn’t a big thing, avoiding chewing on his nails, but it was big for him. It was a step in the right direction, and she was proud of him for that.</p><p>She was proud of him for everything.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Movies & Melatonin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sokka ended up seeing the semester through, but the moment summer hit, he was back home again.</p><p>His daily pattern was something along the lines of what it was during his last two years of high school. He would hang out with his friends, totally happy, work on his summer project, absolutely fine, and then crash for four hours in the evening before staying up half the night. Occasionally, Katara would try to help him get on a better schedule—making sure he took his Ritalin in the mornings, blocking out time for his projects in the afternoon—but it was never successful. Regardless of what she tried, he would always end up doing the same thing.</p><p>Hakoda picked up on it too and would often try to get Sokka to do something else around the time he usually retired for his depression naps, but it didn’t always work. He had a habit of getting really frustrated while working on his projects, and if he did anything on the couch or the floor, he ended up just falling asleep there instead. It kept happening over and over and because Sokka refused to see a therapist and he was too old for them to <em>make</em> it happen, they felt like they were at a loss for what they could do to help.</p><p>“Hey, Katara, come here.” It was early that morning and Sokka had yet to get out of bed. He was on that schedule too, falling asleep at five or six and not getting up until sometime in the budding afternoon. It wasn’t practical in the least. Katara walked over when her dad called, sitting down beside him at the table. “I have to meet Bato to do some stuff today, can you see if you can do anything for Sokka? Not anything big or special, just… try and keep him awake so when I get back we can actually have dinner for once. We have to get him back on a regular schedule.”</p><p>“Yeah, of course. I’ll see if I can find something to keep him awake.” She had to have <em>something </em>in her bag. Maybe the deck of logic puzzles? Those kept him entertained when he was a junior. “I don’t know how successful I’ll be, but I’ll do my best. If nothing else, I’ll keep him up until dinner. You should bring Bato, we haven’t had him around in a while. I don’t think he’s even seen Sokka since he got back. Maybe that would help keep him up.”</p><p>“That’s a good idea, I’ll ask him. Just don’t stress yourself out, all right? If he falls asleep, it’s okay. I just want to try. The schedule he’s on right now is not healthy at all.”</p><p>Katara didn’t need to hear that twice. She nodded before heading off to make her own breakfast, not worrying too much about what would happen. There was every chance that Sokka would fall asleep but if she told him that Bato was coming, it was more likely that he would try to be up longer. It took a couple hours after Hakoda left for Sokka to finally roll out of bed—still dressed in sweatpants and an over-sized shirt, his hair pulled back extremely sloppily—but when he did, Katara was ready.</p><p>She slid him something to eat, which he barely blinked at before taking as he flopped on the couch beside her. The minute he was settled, Katara reached into her bag and pulled out some Ritalin, handing it over to him and watching as he took it without hesitation. He knew what she was doing but he was kind enough not to try and stop her. He understood that she just wanted to help. Even when she turned on his favorite movies and tossed him a fidget toy the moment his fingers started getting restless. Even when she stopped to ask if he was okay because he looked like he might pass out so soon.</p><p>Overall, Sokka didn’t talk a whole lot. He mostly just made jokes about what they were watching, occasionally commenting on the science of things, and nodding along when Katara tried to ask how he was feeling. It was nice to know that he was feeling well enough to talk at all, and when he didn’t resist her suggestion of playing cards it was even better, but she still knew something was off. He wasn’t doing okay, and when they neared the time he usually went back to his room to bury himself in pillows again, she could tell he was on the edge of falling asleep. She refused to let him cross over.</p><p>“Hey,” she started, turning to Sokka the moment he leaned against the back of the couch, as if he were about to go to sleep. He seemed happy when she said Bato might be coming to dinner, but apparently it wasn’t enough on its own. “Looks like we have a while to do nothing before they get back. You want to maybe show me that project you’ve been working on?”</p><p>“Uh, no.” Sokka shook his head quickly, still clicking the fidget toy between his fingers. He didn’t turn to look at her, but his eyes didn’t quite seem to be tuned into the movie either. “No, you don’t want to see it, it’s really bad. I have like, a lot of really messy notes in there and I can’t get the drawings to look right, so it’s— you’ll probably want to wait until the end of the summer if you even want to see it at all. It’s seriously boring.”</p><p>“I’m sure it’s not boring.”</p><p>“Unless you’re suddenly into physics and engineering, then yeah, it’s really boring. And it’s even worse because even <em>I </em>can’t read half the notes on there, so it’s… yeah, you really don’t want to bother. It’s not worth your time.”</p><p>“It’s not worth my time or <em>you’re </em>not worth my time?” Of course, Sokka didn’t respond, only turning to look at his hands and blinking in a way that said he was more than a little uncomfortable. “Sokka, it’s okay. I want to see it. Really.”</p><p>Sokka hesitated for a long time, but nodded and reached out for his project, which was left on the table from when he was working on it the day before. It came as no surprise that his notes were of varying legibility, and Katara didn’t say anything about it. She just watched as he explained what he was working on, showing her each and every piece of the invention. Katara wasn’t entirely sure what he was talking about and zoned out a little during the super technical parts—she loved science, just not <em>that </em>particular science—but it was worth it to see the look on Sokka’s face whenever he got passionate.</p><p>The most important thing, she realized that day, was to keep him talking. When he stopped talking, that was when Sokka started looking like he was going to fall asleep. But if she kept him talking, gently prompting him with questions she may or may not have actually wanted answered, he’d stay alert. Somehow, Katara managed to keep him awake the entire afternoon, even at the moments when he looked ready to wander back to his room. A couple of times, she started to run out of things to say, and she made note to herself to write down the best conversation prompters. They might come in handy with the kit.</p><p>Bato and their dad got home a little later than Katara was expecting, but she didn’t care one bit. She got Sokka to smile at least twice by the time they walked in that door and there was no other way she would’ve rather spent her afternoon. It didn’t take long to whip up the dinner—an activity best done as a family, in Katara’s opinion—and soon enough, they were sat at the table.</p><p>Sokka barely picked at his food.</p><p>It wasn’t a matter of him not wanting to eat, and that much was obvious. Katara recognized way back in high school that it wasn’t an aversion to eating that was afflicting him, but rather a lack of appetite. There wasn’t exactly a clear reason why he wasn’t feeling up to eating, it was just something that came with the mood. Something that accompanied the inexplicable feeling of sadness that had been coming and going ever since he was a kid. If there were any way for Katara to make the pain go away, she would’ve done it, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t do anything.</p><p>The only reason Katara didn’t blame herself for what happened was because of the amount of therapy she received after her mother was murdered in front of her own two eyes. Sokka wouldn’t go as much, but he did a few times. Katara felt that the reason he continued to struggle might have been in part due to the way he resisted help so early on, but she would never say that to his face. She would never try and make it seem like it was his fault when there was nothing he could do to change it.</p><p>“You all right, Sokka?” It wasn’t their dad who asked for once, but Bato; a concerned expression on his face as he looked to Sokka across the table. Sokka barely nodded in response, poking around with his fork, and failing to eat a thing. “You sure? You’ve only said a few words since we got here.”</p><p>“I’m fine,” said Sokka, his voice quiet but his words sharp. He glared down at his plate, gripping his fork between his fingers. He wasn’t going to do any better. Not without more help. “I’m just not that hungry, I guess. I might go back to my room, I had this thing I was working on and I can’t get the diagram to come out the way I want it to, so I really need to try it again, and—”</p><p>“Sokka.” That time it was Hakoda, the look in his eyes filled with compassion. Sokka dodged his gaze, but it was clear it got through to him before he looked away because he stopped standing up, lowering himself back down to the table. “I won’t make you eat anything but please don’t start hiding from us again, okay? We want to spend time with you.”</p><p>“Why?” The word left his mouth quickly, his eyes widening as he dropped his fork and turned to look at the others. He didn’t hold any of their gazes, turning away and looking down to the cloth in front of him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. I know why, I just— sorry. You don’t have to answer that.”</p><p>“Because you’re smart. Funny. Passionate. My <em>son</em>. Sokka, there are a thousand reasons why we want to spend time with you and if I tried to list them all, I don’t think I could. I know you’re not in a great place right now, but we really want to help you, bud. We do.”</p><p>Katara wasn’t sure whether it would be enough to make Sokka stay, but it was. He shifted more comfortably into his seat, still staying quiet until Katara prompted him to start talking about his project again and suddenly, he was off on another ramble. Having to hear the same thing twice in one day got a little dull at points, Katara would admit, but it didn’t matter. It was worth it to see the look on Sokka’s face when his dad and Bato asked him questions and he went off in detail answering them.</p><p>Dinner didn’t last forever but somehow, once it was over, they managed to convince Sokka to stay. He laid down in his usual spot on the couch, resting his head on one of the throw pillows and grumbling a little when Katara sat down beside his feet. Bato and Hakoda sat in the chairs on the other wall, already moving to ask Sokka more questions that he didn’t seem too keen to answer. He knew what they were doing, and the moment they ran out of things to ask, he stopped talking.</p><p>The movies were Katara’s suggestion. Something to keep them all entertained and maybe stop Sokka from falling asleep. Maybe to cheer him up a little bit or help him remember that the little things in life were still good. That his lingering feeling of sadness and hurt didn’t have to stop him from enjoying the things he loved. It seemed like it was working for a while, like Sokka was doing okay, but then he fell asleep and Katara felt like she failed him. It took a long look from her dad to help her remember that Sokka stayed awake longer than he usually did. She tried her best. It was okay.</p><p>Sokka wasn’t doing great but he wasn’t getting worse anymore. He was content.</p><p>He was okay, at least for one night.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Though many things in Katara’s kit were once meant for daily use, there were a few items in there that she hoped would never come out.</p><p>As she learned more things about her brother and his mental state, Katara would often add new things to her bag. She didn’t always know if she would have to use them, but she liked the idea of having them around just in case. There were some things that never came in handy and she ended up taking them out, but others that were important to the point where she couldn’t imagine not having them around even if the need was rare. It was one of those items she used that day. One of those items that broke her heart.</p><p>Katara was coming home from an afternoon out with Toph and Aang when she found him. Or rather, she didn’t. She did invite Sokka to come with them, to hang out for a while, but he declined. No amount of arguing was at all helpful in convincing him, so eventually, Katara gave up and promised she’d be back soon. Sokka only nodded and flopped back on the couch. She was almost expecting him to still be there when she got home, still lying on the couch and probably half asleep, but he was nowhere to be seen. Katara frowned, going straight to his room to continue her search.</p><p>It came as no surprise that he was passed out on his bed but the blood on his arm made her gasp.</p><p>Rather than saying or doing anything right away, Katara only froze in the doorway, staring at Sokka and the scratches on his arm. She let out a soft, nervous sigh as she turned back around, heading into the living room to grab her kit. The little roll of gauze wasn’t something she ever wanted to use but it was something she kept around just in case that happened. In case Sokka cracked and she was the one there to help him. She didn’t wake him up but knelt at his side, using her bending to heal the worst of the cuts before anything else.</p><p>She’d used her bending to heal him before but never quite like that. When they were younger and he’d walk into things before he got his glasses or hurt himself while working on a new project, or the time he’d twisted his ankle so badly he struggled to walk. But she’d never had to heal him because of his own, self-inflicted wounds before. Even the last time he did it, when he relapsed, Sokka refused any help. This time, she refused to wake him up because she knew he would do it again. He’d already left himself to bleed while he slept, it was pointless to try and reason with him.</p><p>It took a few minutes but eventually, Katara felt comfortable with how well she healed his arm. It was still pink and scratchy, but it wasn’t as bad as it was before. She reached for the gauze, to wrap his arm so she could let him go back to sleep, but that bit of movement was apparently too much. That bit of movement shifted him just enough and when she went to tug the second loop around his arm, Sokka lurched and pulled back; sitting up suddenly and pressing his shoulder against the wall. He blinked when he looked down to the arm Katara had been wrapping, his face falling in a second.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his gaze flickering away when Katara tried to meet it. “I was working on my— I couldn’t get the drawing to look right, and I— I was going to take care of it, but I felt really bad so I just—”</p><p>Katara didn’t give him the chance to finish. She leaned forward, pulling him into the biggest hug she could manage and holding him tighter when his body finally started to relax. She didn’t blame him. That was the most important thing to address and she wasn’t quite sure how to say it, but it was true. She didn’t blame him for a thing that happened, no matter how much he must’ve been blaming himself.</p><p>“I know,” she said quietly, pulling away as she slid back against the wall beside him. It wasn’t the most comfortable seat in the world, but it was okay. It was better than leaving him there alone. “I just wanted to make sure that you were all right. Though, I guess that’s kind of a stupid thing to say after I just had to heal your arm up. No chance it was an accident…?”</p><p>“No.” Sokka shook his head, brushing his hands over his eyes. The moment he dropped them back into his lap, Katara reached out to resume her work. Thankfully, he didn’t try to resist, allowing her to wrap the gauze all the way around his forearm. “Please don’t tell Dad that I did it again. I don’t— he’ll be so fucking disappointed in me if he finds out that I cracked and I did I again when I <em>promised </em>I was going to—”</p><p>He broke himself off that time, biting down on his lip and watching in silence as Katara finished with the gauze. She wanted to say something to him, to let him know that it was okay and that their dad would never judge him for what he did, but she didn’t know how to say it and make him believe that it was true. She didn’t know how to make the words sound less empty, to come as a comfort the way they needed to. Katara hesitated when she pulled back, searching for the right thing to say.</p><p>“Do you want to come hang out with me for a while?”</p><p>That wasn’t it. It wasn’t even <em>close </em>to the right thing to say and yet, it was what came out of Katara’s mouth. She didn’t know how to get Sokka to talk outright but she knew how to get him into a situation where he felt more comfortable doing it on his own and that was what she hoped she could do. Several seconds passed in silence but when Sokka finally looked up, he nodded, and Katara let out another breath of relief. She hopped off the bed first, nodding toward the door and not walking out until she was sure Sokka was following her.</p><p>At that point, the movies were nothing more than sound. Katara didn’t even know what they were about anymore—or rather, she knew far too well and never had to pay attention to understand—but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for Sokka lying beside her, flopping his head down on one pillow and wrapping his arms around another. She flicked him a couple times when he started to pick at the gauze, but never in a way that would hurt. She just wanted to make sure that he wasn’t doing anything that might harm himself again.</p><p>Sokka fell asleep again for about an hour but he woke up sometime around the beginning of the second movie. He didn’t say a word, only blinking and shifting in his seat while Katara pretended not to notice. If he wasn’t ready to talk yet, that was okay. She wasn’t about to pressure him when he was already in such a bad place. When any wrong word could send him right back to whatever awful tool he’d used to do that to his arm in the first place.</p><p>“How do you do it?” The question came out of nowhere, pulling Katara from her thoughts. She turned to look at Sokka, baffled as to what he was referring to, and waited for an explanation. She couldn’t answer when the question was so vague. “Go through every day without hating yourself, I mean. Not— okay, what I’m trying to say is like, how do you just… how do you not be sad? I know that you used to feel really guilty and sometimes you still do and I just— I don’t— how do you make it go away?”</p><p>That was a question she didn’t have the answer to. Katara spent more than a few nights unable to sleep, too busy thinking about her mother. She spent more than a few days unhappy and barely dragging herself through the day because it seemed like it would be so much easier to just stay in bed. But she didn’t. She forced herself to get up, to keep moving, to be there to take care of everyone because her mother wasn’t anymore, and they needed her. Sokka needed her. Her dad needed her. She couldn’t just do nothing.</p><p>“I don’t make it go away,” said Katara, the words hitting her hard as they left her mouth. “I just do my best to ignore it, and I know that’s really hard sometimes, and I don’t think that’s good advice for you at all, but that’s the truth. You and Dad need me to be strong for you, so I am. I can’t crack so I don’t crack. Or I try not to. It’s like you did for me after Mom died. You were there for me. You protected me. You still do.”</p><p>“No, I don’t. I <em>should</em>, but I’m just a failure now. All I do is fuck up at everything.” Sokka didn’t sound like he was whining, but like he was sure of himself. Like every damn word coming out of his mouth was fact and there was nothing she could say to convince him otherwise. “I don’t mean it like that, I just— I just feel like I keep sliding backwards. Like I thought I was doing so well as an engineer, but I’m not. I’m just doing everything wrong. I can’t draw, I can barely write half the time because my hands are always shaking, and I don’t know. I <em>was</em> that person. You’re right. But I’m not anymore.”</p><p>“You are still that person. This is just one setback. I know it’s hard and it hurts but that doesn’t mean it’s all over, okay? It just means that you need a little help to get through this and then you can get right back to being that person you were before. It’s going to be okay. I promise. Just keep doing what you’ve been doing. Just keep talking to us when something happens and don’t ever feel like you’re a burden because you’re not. We love you, Sokka.”</p><p>He didn’t say a word. He nodded a little but didn’t so much as try to look at his sister, let alone sit up to truly face her. It wasn’t happening, and she was okay with that. Sokka was tired and upset and he felt like shit from having a bad day, but it was all right. Katara was tired too. Tired of having to deal with the same thing day after day and being powerless to change it. Tired of being powerless to help her brother in a way that seemed to really work. Tired of sitting and watching as he slowly fell apart and she found herself absolutely helpless.</p><p>Katara wanted to say something else, to keep trying to help, but she couldn’t. She didn’t know what to do anymore or if there was even anything left for her to try. She wanted him to be okay, to feel better, but there was no easy way to make that happen. There was no easy way to make <em>anything </em>happen because mental health wasn’t an easy thing. There wasn’t just a magic fix button or a way to make the pain stop. It was a long process, a hard process, and Katara had to accept that some days would be bad. That even when he tried his best, Sokka might not always be able to be the goofball that still lived in his heart.</p><p>“Sorry for dropping all this on you.” Sokka’s voice was quiet, the words coming out of nowhere and startling Katara from her thoughts. “I know I shouldn’t be putting this weight on your shoulders when it’s a problem with myself.”</p><p>“Sokka—”</p><p>“I’m going to stop talking about it. I think I just need to learn how to figure things out on my own, you know? Without having you or Dad trying to take care of me all the time. Not that I don’t appreciate it, I do, I just think it’s time for me to stop being so stupid about everything. I have to get over it. You’re about to go to college, Dad’s got all this stuff going on with his work… It’s just not fair to make you deal with me.”</p><p>“Sokka, stop. What are you talking about?” Something triggered him. Whatever happened to make him hurt himself was what the same thing making him talk that way. Whatever awful thing happened while she was gone was still hurting him and making it worse, but she didn’t know what it was. He wouldn’t give her an answer. “Please, Sokka, you can talk to me.”</p><p>“No, I can’t.” Sokka shook his head quickly, pulling his fingers into tight fists. “You wouldn’t understand.”</p><p>“What do you mean I wouldn’t understand? I already understand everything. I know how much it hurts and how bad it gets and I’m never going to judge you. The only reason I would ever be upset would be because I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know what happened this time and if you don’t tell me, then I can’t—”</p><p>“I broke up with Suki.”</p><p>Every guess Katara had went right out the window and she stopped every movement. It was the last thing she ever expected him to say. Sokka loved Suki. A <em>lot</em>. An absolutely <em>ridiculous </em>amount. He fell in love with her when they were fifteen and he hadn’t stopped fawning over her since. The day they got together was one of the greatest days of his life. The fact that they broke up, that anything could drive them apart after seeing them together and how much they cared about each other, seemed almost impossible.</p><p>“What?” It was the only thing Katara could even think to say. She didn’t know how to respond without more information. Unfortunately, Sokka wasn’t so quick to respond this time, only shaking his head again and turning to look away. “What happened? Why did you—?”</p><p>“Because she cares about me too much,” Sokka snapped, the look in his eyes turning to pain in an instant. He squeezed his hands tighter, his knuckles turning white as he pulled his eyes shut too. Katara didn’t rush him, no matter how badly she wanted to. “She never stops asking if I’m okay or if I need anything and even if she’s not saying it directly, I know that’s what she means, and I— I don’t want her to have to deal with that. She deserves so much better.”</p><p>“No, she doesn’t. You’re <em>amazing </em>together, Sokka. I know you feel like you’re a burden, but you’re not. The only reason Suki is checking on you is because she loves you and she wants you to be okay. She doesn’t feel like you’re in her way or she wouldn’t be asking in the first place. She cares about you. I know she does. If you call her, it’ll be okay. Just go do it.”</p><p>“I <em>can’t</em>, Katara. I can’t be with her because I can’t do that to her. She has her life and her goals and if she’s with me, I’m just going to hold her back and it’s not fair. It’s not fair to any of you. It’s not even fair to <em>me</em>. I— I had such a big life ahead of me. I had plans and ambitions and now I don’t even want to get out of bed, and I don’t know how to get past that. I don’t know how I’m supposed to just stop being this person and become someone else. I don’t. I <em>can’t</em>.”</p><p>“It’s okay. You don’t have to— <em>Sokka</em>.” He looked up. Finally, <em>finally</em>, he looked up at her, even if his gaze didn’t hold hers for long. “I think you should try going back to therapy. I know it’s hard and scary, but it was good for you. Remember? You felt better when you started opening up about things. Maybe if you talk it out with someone, you can figure out what to do about Suki.”</p><p>“No, I can’t, I already messed it up.” There it was. That was what was really bothering him. Everything else was just coming out as a consequence of the first mistake. Breaking up with Suki when he still loved her so much. He dragged his hands over his face, shaking his head as he dropped his arms against his chest. “I left her a fucking <em>text</em>, Katara. I didn’t even bother calling. Who does that? She was so upset, and she was leaving me voicemails and I did <em>nothing</em>. I just ghosted her, and it was wrong, and—”</p><p>“What did you say?” Nothing. “Please tell me. It changes whether she’s mad-mad or just upset-mad.”</p><p>“I told her she deserved better than me and I didn’t want to waste her time anymore.”</p><p>“There you go. She’s not calling you because she hates you, Sokka, she’s calling you because she’s worried. I won’t make you call her back right now, but I really think you should talk to her. Just so she knows you’re okay.”</p><p>“But what if I’m not?”</p><p>Katara hesitated. “Then it’s okay to tell her that too.”</p><p>She got nothing more than a blink and a nod in response.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>He didn’t call Suki.</p><p>The reason Katara knew that was not because he told her but because Suki messaged her later asking whether he was okay. Katara told the truth. He relapsed again. He wasn’t okay. She would keep Suki updated on how he was feeling. Katara was right in assuming that Suki wasn’t upset, only worried. She asked Katara several times to keep her up to date on what was happening, even though Katara already promised that she would. Not that it was always easy to tell her what was happening. That Sokka slept the day away. That he had an anxiety attack and missed his first therapy session since senior year of high school.</p><p>Sokka did start to get better, but it was an up and down road. He was always silent when he got back from therapy and he still took long naps on many afternoons. The only way to reliably keep him awake, they learned, was to have him go out on the boat with their dad and Bato. When he was on his feet, Sokka never stopped moving. It was when he sat down to read or study—two things he used to love—when he would start to crack. When he would inevitably get frustrated and abandon his work in favor of a nap, whether it was intentional or not.</p><p>One thing that Katara was growing increasingly proud of was Sokka’s ability to talk. Sometimes he still struggled and would prefer to spend his time working things out on his own, but when things got really bad, he would go to Katara or their dad and just talk. He would tell them what was wrong, why he was having bad thoughts that day, and they would work to figure everything out. It wasn’t always that helpful, but it was enough to keep Sokka’s arms from bleeding again and that was all either of them truly cared about.</p><p>It was late the night she found him. Katara stayed up late texting Aang and it was well past midnight when she sneaked out of her room. She was only intending to have some water and head right back to bed but stopped when she turned to cross through the living room and saw him on the couch. If Sokka were asleep, Katara would’ve gone right about her business, but he wasn’t. He was just lying on his side, his arms around an old pillow and his hair down around his ears as he stared at the wall, shifting his gaze only to glance in her direction.</p><p>“Hey.” Katara kept her voice down so she wouldn’t risk waking their dad in the other room, quietly walking over to where Sokka was on the couch. He barely looked at her, his eyes empty and bloodshot. Understanding she wouldn’t get a response with only that, Katara slid down on the floor near her brother, leaning against the edge of the couch. “You should go to bed.”</p><p>“Can’t sleep,” said Sokka, not so much as shifting in his seat. “Stupid.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Suki. Worried. Texted. Told her to stop. Stupid.”</p><p>He didn’t want to talk to her. If he wanted to talk to her about it, to tell her more thoroughly what happened with Suki, then he would use his words, but he wasn’t. All he was doing was giving her the minimal information and yeah, that was something he used to do a lot when he was tired, but it was a defense mechanism too. If he didn’t say a lot, he didn’t have to explain himself, and that was something he’d learned when he was still really young. Katara let out a sigh, knowing it was going to take a lot more work to get through to him.</p><p>“You’re not stupid, Sokka.” Katara turned to her brother, but he shifted his gaze to look the other way. “Yeah, what you did to Suki before was stupid and maybe you made another mistake now, I don’t know what you said, but that doesn’t mean you’re stupid. It just means you’re hurting, and you don’t want anyone else to have to feel that way.”</p><p>“It just—” Sokka broke off his speech as quickly as he started, shaking his head, and nuzzling deeper into the pillows. Too long passed before he finally chose to speak again, to the point where Katara was nearly ready to continue on her pep talk without him. “I love her so much, Katara, and I don’t want to lose her, but I can’t keep her tied down to me like this.”</p><p>“But that’s the thing. I know it hurts and it feels like it’s real but whatever you think is going to hurt her isn’t as bad as your mind is trying to tell you. Suki loves you too. She does. I know you’re not in a good place right now, but it’s not all your fault. You can’t blame yourself because it hurts. You’re going to therapy and you’re trying and I’m really proud of you for that. So is Dad, and Suki too. She told me. She doesn’t care if you’re blowing her off, Sokka, she understands. You need time.”</p><p>“No, I don’t need time, I need—”</p><p>It was the way he inhaled that hurt more than anything else. It was sharp, wheezing, and broke Katara in a way that she couldn’t even explain. The moment after the sound left his mouth, Sokka turned and shoved his head down into the pillow, gripping the sides of it with his fingers. The edges of his nails were bloody, she realized, and it didn’t take two seconds to realize he’d gone straight back to indulging in one of his most destructive nervous habits.</p><p>Katara reached out for Sokka’s arm but didn’t touch him before she heard a door opening down the hall and of course, their dad walked out. Hakoda looked concerned, which came as no surprise given what must’ve woken him up, and he didn’t stop once on his way over to the couch. He knelt down beside his kids, gently nudging Sokka’s shoulder and urging him to sit up. It took too long for him to actually do it, to turn and face his dad, but when he did, it hurt even more. Katara could barely look at the tears on his cheeks.</p><p>“Why do I have to be like this?” Sokka was almost hiccupping, clinging to his dad like he thought he might run away. “Why couldn’t— Why couldn’t I just be normal and happy and then I wouldn’t— I wouldn’t have fucked things up with Suki or my classes or <em>myself</em>. I just— I just want it to stop hurting and I don’t understand why that’s so <em>hard</em>.”</p><p>Clearly, Hakoda understood the emotional stress of the situation as well as Katara did because he didn’t try to say anything at all. He just pulled Sokka in closer to him, taking deep, exaggerated breaths as he tried to get his son to follow them. Sokka was trying, his breaths kept moving in a way that confirmed it was true, but he couldn’t do it. He choked on every inhale, his eyes still watering and his fingers gripping his dad’s shirt too tight. He was sleep-deprived and sad and Katara <em>knew </em>that was what was causing it, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. It didn’t make it any easier to watch.</p><p>“All right, bud, listen.” Hakoda almost sounded like he was starting to tear up himself, but if he was, he didn’t let it get to him. He brushed the loose hair out of Sokka’s face, holding a few short strands back with his thumb. “I don’t know what happened or why this is hitting you so hard tonight, but it’s okay. You—”</p><p>“No, it’s not okay. I broke up with Suki weeks ago and she wanted to talk to me, so I told her to stop trying and I—”</p><p>“Okay, deep breath. In through your nose, out through your mouth. You’re okay. I know it’s hard to accept, but there’s nothing you can do about that right now so the best thing for you is to just try and get some sleep, okay? It’ll be a lot easier to try and deal with in the morning after you got your rest. I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but it <em>is </em>going to be all right. We’ll talk about this more tomorrow.”</p><p>“I can’t fall asleep.” Sokka shook his head slowly, refusing to slide out of his dad’s grasp. Hakoda didn’t fight him, allowing him to stay instead of forcing him to go to bed. “I tried for two hours after I talked to Suki and I just can’t stop thinking about it. How am I supposed to fall asleep when I have this awful guilt hanging over my head? When all I can do is think about how badly I fucked up?”</p><p>Katara knew that feeling too well. The feeling of guilt and regret, knowing that something bad happened and it was your fault. She remembered what it was like trying to fall asleep after her mother died in front of her own two eyes. She couldn’t stop thinking about it. Every time she closed her eyes, there was her mother, crying. Screaming. <em>Dead</em>. And she was there to see it. She should have done something, stopped the bad guys somehow, but she couldn’t. She let them come in and take away everything she loved.</p><p>“You just remind yourself that one mistake does not define you,” said Hakoda gently, “and then you ask your sister for some melatonin.”</p><p>He didn’t have to. The moment Hakoda said the words, Katara stood up and slid into the kitchen, searching the medicine cabinet for what they needed. It took her a bit to find it, and she made note to stuff some in the pack where it would be easier to get on short notice. Within a couple minutes, however, Katara found the bottle and headed back over to her dad and brother, a glass of water in hand as well. Sokka didn’t take it at first, claiming it wouldn’t do anything for him and he didn’t need it, but eventually gave in and accepted the help.</p><p>All three of them were quiet while Sokka took the pills, giving him some space to drink his water and reflect on what happened. Katara needed that space too. She was still half asleep, her heart was still pounding, and every time she looked to the expression of her dad and her brother, it hurt a little more. Sokka was a good person, one of the best she’d ever known. It wasn’t fair that he had to hurt so much. That no matter how hard he tried or how much therapy he got, it was never enough to make him feel better.</p><p>The only time Sokka could even be considered <em>okay </em>was when he was in high school. When the truth came out about his depression and his dad and Katara supported him every step of the way. It all crashed when he went off to college. When they weren’t there for him and he refused to call Suki when he needed help. When he let the bad thoughts manifest and bother him in a way that dug too deep; cutting him and breaking him in a way he couldn’t recover from. Not on his own.</p><p>“I’m sorry I woke you up.” The words broke the silence that hung in the air, forcing Katara to turn away from her thoughts and Hakoda to face the conversation he’d barely managed to pause. It wasn’t easy. They both hesitated for too long and Sokka got to speak first. “I wasn’t trying to hurt anybody, I just feel so stupid and I don’t— I don’t deserve what you’re giving me. I just want to be that tough guy again.”</p><p>“You were never a tough guy, Sokka.” Maybe it wasn’t the best thing Katara could’ve said, but it was true, and she felt like Sokka needed to know that. That he hadn’t ruined whoever he used to be, he just grew and changed and there was nothing wrong with that. “Maybe that was the face you put on and the way you wanted people to see you, but you’ve always just been… not soft, just a <em>goofball</em>. You’re tough but you’re sweet and funny and just because you’ve changed as you got older doesn’t mean you’re stupid. You just grew up.”</p><p>“But I just feel like I got worse, you know? Like, I should’ve gotten <em>better </em>but I’m turning back into that same little kid who cried for an hour every day because he couldn’t write his own name. I shouldn’t do that anymore. I <em>can’t </em>do that anymore.”</p><p>“Well, maybe that’s what you have to do,” started Hakoda, reaching out a hand to give Sokka’s shoulder a squeeze. “Don’t think about it like you’re going backwards, think about it like you’re moving on. You’ve already taken huge steps going back to therapy, bud. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now because you’re upset about what happened with Suki, but you’ve been doing so much better.”</p><p>“Then why do I keep relapsing?” Sokka brushed his hands over his eyes, shaking his head. He knew the answer. There was no way he hadn’t talked to his therapist about it already. “I just don’t want to feel like this anymore. I don’t want to be this person, I want to be the goofball that Katara said. The guy who’s always acting tough and never stops making stupid jokes. <em>That’s </em>how I want to be stupid. Not like this.”</p><p>“I know it’s hard, Sokka, but deep down, that’s still you. You’re older and you’re hurting but that doesn’t mean it’s going to last forever. It just means you have to keep pushing forward and working hard until you start to feel better, okay? Come here.”</p><p>Katara was in on the hug that time. None of them said a word, only holding each other in that special, family way. A good minute passed before they started to pull apart and Hakoda stopped; Katara quickly realizing that Sokka had fallen asleep on his shoulder. Hakoda let out a soft sigh, carefully laying him back on the couch and dragging a blanket across his shoulders before brushing the hair out of his face. He looked better when he was sleeping.</p><p>Rather than going straight back to her room, Katara stopped to get some melatonin for herself first, then tossed a few of pills in a baggie and slid it into her kit. The bag was running out of room to carry the supplies, but her heart was running out of room to carry the weight of Sokka’s pain, so she didn’t pay it any mind.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Hugs & Hair Ties</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The hardest part wasn’t getting Suki to talk again, it was convincing Sokka that she really wanted to.</p>
<p>After only one talk with her, Katara was absolutely certain that Suki still cared as much as she did before, and she didn’t hold any of Sokka’s actions against him. Mostly. She did say she would have to beat him up a little when he was feeling well enough to get back to training, but she understood what he was going through and didn’t blame him for pushing her away even if it hurt. Even if it was hard to find him again after everything that happened and it took countless tries to get him in a place where he was even willing to talk (or “drag her back into his shit”, as he described it).</p>
<p>Suki ended up coming over to see them, since Sokka wasn’t really going many places because his social anxiety was out of control, and he was hesitant to do anything with Suki and risk making things worse. Of course, Sokka was still asleep when she got there and didn’t come out of his room. Katara offered to make them some Labrador tea and she did, sitting down on the couch with Suki once they had their mugs in their hands. Suki was quiet for a bit, blowing on her drink and hesitating before she spoke.</p>
<p>“How has he been?” she asked softly, her tone filled with concern. Katara didn’t answer fast enough, thinking too hard about her words, and Suki went on. “Has he relapsed again? Since we last talked?”</p>
<p>“The last time he relapsed was after he broke up with you,” said Katara, wincing at the way Suki nodded. She carried the same guilt as Katara did; knowing that it wasn’t her fault but unable to look at it as anything else. “He’s been making a lot of progress since then, <em>especially </em>since we talked to him the other night, but… it’s slow. Really slow. Sometimes I wish there was something I could do to make it go faster but I know we have to give him time.”</p>
<p>“That’s the only reason I haven’t come by sooner. I didn’t want to get in the way of his recovery since he didn’t want me around. And I understand where he’s coming from, you know, I just wish he would let me help.”</p>
<p>“I know. It’s hard to get him to let us help sometimes too, but I think he’s really trying. He wants to get better, I know he does, it just isn’t easy after everything that happened. After so long and with the way he doesn’t always understand what he’s feeling. And he’s always so stressed when he gets home from his therapy sessions even though it’s supposed to help, and I guess I just worry sometimes that he’ll never be okay. Sorry. That was more than you wanted to know.”</p>
<p>“No, it’s stuff that I <em>already </em>know.” Suki let out a sigh, shaking her head and staring down at her mug with an unreadable expression. Of course, Suki knew how bad Sokka was doing just as well as Katara did. She understood the position he was in, the way he was struggling, and she was struggling because of that too. She was struggling the same way as Katara was. “I get it, Katara. I just want to help but I’m starting to think he doesn’t want it. Maybe he doesn’t even want me.”</p>
<p>“That’s not true. Sokka loves you <em>so </em>much.” It was hard to explain exactly, since Katara wasn’t her brother and she couldn’t feel the same things that he felt. But she knew what he said. What he showed her. The way his face lit up when he talked about Suki and his eyes shone whenever she walked into the room. He cared. He cared too much, and that was the real problem. “He just feels like he’s dragging you into something you don’t deserve, and he doesn’t understand that it’s not like that.”</p>
<p>“I know, but I’ve tried talking to him and I just don’t know how to—”</p>
<p>Suki snapped her mouth shut suddenly and it took Katara no more than a few seconds to realize why. Finally, Sokka got out of bed, leaning in the doorway to the living room; his hair in a sloppy wolftail and dressed in nothing but gray sweatpants. He chewed lamely on his thumbnail, staring at the women on the couch and blinking slowly, looking them up and down like he was expecting to be shouted at or pitied. It was hard to tell which one and honestly, Katara wasn’t sure she wanted to know.</p>
<p>“Hey.” It was the first time in a long time that Sokka saw Suki and didn’t immediately let out a happy cry. Instead, he only shifted back against the wall, giving both her and Katara a look that was impossible to read. “I— I heard you talking. I didn’t expect you to be here today, Suki. Something happen?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Suki stood up suddenly, stepping toward Sokka with one hand outstretched. He crossed his arms more tightly, his gaze lingering but his fingers not accepting the touch. “I missed you and I wanted to see if you were okay. Are you?”</p>
<p>“You’re looking at my scars.”</p>
<p>“I’m worried about you, Sokka.”</p>
<p>“I told you, you don’t have to worry about me anymore.” The way he spoke held a certain tone, a certain affliction she couldn’t stand. It ached to listen to, Katara’s heart pounding faster with each word. She was silently begging him to make the right decision, to stop pushing Suki away when it was only making things worse. “I’m not going to hurt you again. I’m not worth it.”</p>
<p>“You’re worth it to me.” She took another step forward, gently reaching out to grab Sokka’s bicep when he turned his gaze away from her and down to the floor. Suki carefully slid one hand on top of Sokka’s, pulling his fingers from his arm and wrapping her own fingers around his. He didn’t resist, but still refused to look up. “Please, Sokka. I know you don’t think you’re a good person, but you <em>are</em>. You’re smart, sweet, funny, <em>beautiful</em>—”</p>
<p>That did it. Sokka ripped away, yanking his arm back when Suki reached out to him again. His entire face fell, his breathing audible even from where Katara sat a few feet away. He dragged one hand through his hair before returning to chewing on his thumbnail, shaking his head as he looked to Suki. His gaze fell within seconds, unwilling or unable to hold her stare regardless of how soft and caring it was. Suki didn’t seem to have given up, but she didn’t say anything else immediately, instead allowing him space to think and eventually speak.</p>
<p>“I’m not.” His voice was barely above a whisper, each word so quiet that Katara could barely hear them. “My jokes are pretty good, I’ll give you that, but I can’t write half the time. I push away everyone I care about. My arms are covered in these ugly scars. I— I get what you’re trying to do, Suki, and it means a lot, but I’m not beautiful. I’m not any of those things.”</p>
<p>“You are to me.”</p>
<p>Sokka said nothing, but finally lifted his gaze. He met Suki’s eyes and they looked to each other for a long several seconds before Suki placed her hands on Sokka’s cheeks, gently nudging him to turn and pressing a soft kiss beside his ear. Her thumb brushed away the tear as quickly as it slid down his face; his eyes closing as he leaned forward and leaned his forehead against Suki’s shoulder. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace. Sokka was still shaking, that was clear even from a distance, but he looked better when he slid his hands around Suki’s back. When they held each other close like that.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” said Sokka, his lips the only reason Katara could understand a word he said. “I shouldn’t have told you to leave, I just don’t know how to deal with it anymore and I don’t want your life to be ruined because of me. Because I couldn’t be good enough.”</p>
<p>“The problem has never been that you’re not good enough.” Suki’s tone was convincing, though her touch was still gentle and her words not the least bit harsh. “The problem is that you don’t know how to accept that we care about you. I know you think it’s better to push everyone away but it’s not because we love you, okay, Sokka? I love you.”</p>
<p>Katara let out a breath of relief when Sokka nodded. He was okay. He was accepting Suki’s help. Maybe it wouldn’t last, or he was just putting on a show, but it didn’t matter because he was getting a hug and that was what he needed. Someone to show that they cared about him. That it didn’t matter how much he was hurting because they loved him whether he was happy or not. Katara rose from her seat on the couch, not wanting to interrupt the moment but unable to stop herself from putting in her comments either.</p>
<p>“Suki is right,” she started, leaning back against the wall across from them. Sokka and Suki finally pulled out of their hug, but kept their hands wrapped around each other. “It might not always feel like it, but me and Dad are telling you the truth when we say we want to help. It’s not because we feel obligated, it’s because we care about you. When something is wrong, when you feel like relapsing, just talk to one of us. <em>Please</em>. It’s okay.”</p>
<p>“No, it’s not okay. I’m not—” He squeezed Suki’s hand tightly, shaking his head as he blinked back tears. It was too much, too overwhelming, but Katara knew that it was too late to stop either. They were on the brink of convincing him, she was sure of it, they just had to get through to his core. “You’re amazing. You guys, Dad, Bato, but I don’t deserve your help. I’m not trying to get better, I just keep doing nothing. I keep going to therapy but having breakdowns and trying to smile but napping all day, and it’s just— it’s not good enough.”</p>
<p>“It’s <em>exactly</em> good enough, that’s what we’re trying to help you understand, Sokka. Just because you still have bad days and you still feel down a lot and you can’t go out all the time because of your anxiety doesn’t mean you’re not trying. It just means that it takes time. It means you’re trying and you’re working on it and if you keep at it, it’s going to be okay. I promise. Just don’t shut us out because we’re doing everything we can to support you and you need that. You can’t do this if you don’t have us to fall back on.”</p>
<p>Sokka opened his mouth, almost inevitably about to suggest that having them to fall back on was a bad thing, but he snapped it shut suddenly. He didn’t say a word, only shaking his head and blinking again before squeezing his eyes shut and letting his head tilt down toward the floor. The only reason Katara didn’t push him to respond faster was because she understood. Because she knew that he was trying, and he wanted to be better, and he was doing his damnedest to understand what they were saying and let it sink into his bones.</p>
<p>His fingers continued to squeeze Suki’s as he leaned back against the wall, his chest rising and falling heavily as he took deep breaths most likely meant to steady himself. The fact that he was trying to do that, to get himself to relax after everything that happened, meant a lot to Katara. He wanted to do better for himself, to do better for <em>them</em>, and she gave him whatever space he needed to feel like he could make that happen. After a long minute, Sokka finally looked up again, glancing over to Suki before nodding and turning back to his sister.</p>
<p>“Yeah.” It wasn’t an argument, saying that he <em>could </em>do it without them to fall back on, but an agreement. She was right. He did need help, even if he felt like a burden. “I— I’ll try to talk to you more. When I’m having a bad day. I just… I feel like I’m getting in your way when I do and I know that you always want to help and you’re so nice about it, but— no. I won’t make any excuses. I’m going to try harder. To be open, I mean. To tell you when something is wrong.”</p>
<p>“Thank you.” Katara didn’t hesitate before stepping forward and pulling Sokka into an embrace, sliding one hand around Suki when she wrapped her arms around them too. Sokka was still breathing heavily, but he was okay. He was trying, he was safe, and he was okay. “That’s all we ever needed to hear from you.”</p>
<p>Rather than saying another word, Sokka only slid his arms around them both.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Although it was clearly difficult for him at times, Sokka stayed true to his word.</p>
<p>Before he returned to college, there were a few nights when he would sit outside Katara’s door for a while before he actually went inside. After he returned to college, there were a few nights he left that little, <em>Sokka is typing</em> on the screen for ages before he finally sent a word. But he did it. Every time he wanted to do something bad to himself or he needed someone to talk to, he did it. He talked to Katara, Suki, his dad; even his other friends depending on what he was struggling with at the time.</p>
<p>It was harder to keep an eye on how he was doing when he was so far away—when they were all so far away—but Sokka did his best to keep his family updated on everything, and they did the same for him. Both of their group chats were constantly active, the family one and the found family one, and they constantly kept each other up to date on what was going on in their lives. Everything was good for a while. Katara was doing well in school, Sokka was doing better, and their dad was having a great time working with Bato as always.</p>
<p>Then came the day of Sokka’s first robotics tournament since high school and things went a little downhill.</p>
<p>Katara had a feeling that something was going to happen. It was far from the first time that Sokka expressed interest in getting back into it, but the moment he did, and he invited them to come watch his tournament, she just had it in her gut that something would go wrong. Not because she didn’t trust him, but because she understood his struggles with social anxiety better than anyone and getting back out in front of a crowd after so long couldn’t possibly be easy. She was right.</p>
<p>Sokka texted first but the words came through with so many typos that Katara struggled to make it out and had to ask him to send it again. His hands were shaking. No doubt about it. Katara was more than a little surprised when he ended up calling her instead, but she stepped out of the crowded stands and answered it regardless, knowing that Sokka wouldn’t do that if something wasn’t wrong. She lifted the phone to her ear the moment she was in a quieter area, waiting for Sokka to speak. He didn’t.</p>
<p>“Hey,” she said, hoping her tone sounded more reassuring than afraid. “Are you okay? Where are you? This thing is about to start.”</p>
<p>“Do you have any hair ties?” His question was odd for the way he spoke; his words shaking, shallow, and thick with tears. “I’m fine, I just— I broke my hair tie, and I can’t go out there without— okay, maybe I’m having a <em>little </em>anxiety attack but it’s fine. I’m fine. It’s fine.”</p>
<p>“Okay, I got it. Where are you?”</p>
<p>It didn’t take long to track him down after he admitted to the fact that he had to stop and throw up. Sokka was sitting on the floor of a nearby, empty locker room when she arrived, leaning back against a locker door with his hair all around his face. It was exactly as he said. He was twisting a broken hair tie around in his fingers, his head resting against the locker and his chest rising and falling as he took deep breaths to steady himself. That was the bright side of things. Sokka was better at managing his anxiety than he used to be and understood the best ways to manage it.</p>
<p>Sokka looked up when Katara knelt down beside him, but he didn’t say anything, so she didn’t either. Instead, she only unzipped her backpack and pulled out a bag of hair ties from the kit. At that point, the zipper was tearing at the edges and the writing was halfway faded but it didn’t make a difference. It didn’t change the way that she felt about it and she refused to get rid of it. Not until her brother absolutely didn’t need it anymore. Not until she knew that without it, without <em>her</em>, he could really be all right.</p>
<p>“Are you okay?” asked Katara, as she handed over a dark blue hair tie. Sokka nodded, closing his fingers around it in his palm, but not opening his eyes. “Is it just the anxiety? Having to be in front of all those people like that?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. I think so.” Though she almost expected him to pull his hair back sooner, Katara was proven wrong when Sokka failed to do so, only replacing the broken hair tie as his method of fidgeting. She took the hair tie from him again, quickly swapping it out for a flippy chain and nudging him to move away from the locker. He did. “Sorry, I’m fine, I just— I can’t stop shaking.”</p>
<p>“It’s all right. There’s no hurry. It’s better you feel okay than that you’re out there.”</p>
<p>“I know. Thank you.”</p>
<p>Katara only smiled, gently sliding her hands up the back of Sokka’s head and tugging his hair into place. They used to do each other’s hair a lot when they were little, but not so much as they got older. Still, it brought back a comforting feeling not just for Katara, but for her brother too. She could feel the way he started to relax as she combed her fingers through his hair, struggling with a few tangles before moving on to pull it up. It wasn’t just because of her, she knew, but because of their mother.</p>
<p>She always used to put their hair up when they were children. Kya would finish Katara’s rather quickly because she was good at sitting still, but Sokka had a habit of bouncing around a lot—an early and obvious of his ADHD, as they would later realize—and it would often make it more difficult to get him ready to leave the house. Still, it was a comfort, thinking about the way their mother used to stand behind them on the floor, yanking their hair into place and quieting their complaints because that was the way it was supposed to be done.</p>
<p>The moment Katara finished wrapping the tie around his hair, Sokka slid back against the lockers, dragging his hands down his face. His eyes were a little bloodshot and the bags beneath them a tad too obvious, but he looked okay. Not as panicky as when she walked in, or as upset as he used to get when he was younger. Sokka was doing better, regardless of whether he felt like it or not. It was difficult to decide how to approach that situation, how to say what she was thinking, but Katara managed to do it after a long moment in thought.</p>
<p>“I’m really proud of you,” she said, reaching out a hand to squeeze Sokka’s shoulder. He turned to her, a smile on his face that almost felt genuine. It was small, lopsided, but it wasn’t unhappy. “I know you say a lot that you feel like you haven’t done that much, but you really have. You never would’ve been able to get through this on your own before, but you did now.”</p>
<p>“I did with your hair tie.” Sokka’s tone was joking, but in a way that was genuinely grateful too. He sniffed, tugging a stray lock of hair behind his ear, and sticking his tongue out at Katara in response to her imperfect job. She rolled her eyes, mostly just glad that he was able to joke about it. “Sorry, I’m not trying to make this into— I know it’s not funny, I just… still trying to get my breath back.”</p>
<p>“I know. It’s okay.”</p>
<p>Sokka only nodded that time, wrapping his arms around his stomach and closing his eyes again as he leaned his head back against the locker. Before, Katara would’ve felt that she needed to say something to help him, but not anymore. Now, Sokka was able to breathe on his own. To recognize and understand his issues and get through them without a lot of help. Katara slid back beside her brother and rested her head on his shoulder, taking deep breaths to guide him along. Maybe he didn’t <em>need </em>the help anymore, but that didn’t stop Katara from wanting to be there.</p>
<p>They stayed that way for a few more minutes, just taking deep breaths and relaxing in each other’s presence. It wasn’t often that they got to do that anymore, since they went off on their own paths, but it was still just as helpful as it was when they were kids. When their mother was gone, and their father was grieving, and all they really had was each other. Sokka wrapped an arm around Katara’s shoulders, giving her a squeeze that felt more reassuring than anything she’d done for him. Katara turned to look at him when he opened his mouth, waiting for the words to finally leave it.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” he said finally. He didn’t elaborate right away and Katara didn’t push him to. She didn’t know what he was talking about but if he felt like that was something he needed to say, then she wouldn’t stop him. “For everything, I mean. You know, putting up with me through all of this. Staying there when I wasn’t doing well, and when I was being a dick and I didn’t deserve it.”</p>
<p>“No, Sokka, you weren’t—”</p>
<p>“Don’t say that. I was. I know I was. I yelled at you, Dad, Suki—who <em>didn’t </em>I hurt? But I’m not going to do that anymore. I talked to my therapist about how I always push people away and she said it’s just a depression thing. Not thinking you deserve the help. I get that now. I’m not going to push you away again. Any of you.”</p>
<p>Katara hesitated before asking the question she couldn’t get out of her mind. “But do you <em>want </em>to? Do you still feel like you should?”</p>
<p>“I mean, yeah.” The speed at which Sokka responded came as a surprise. He wasn’t the least bit resistant to admit the truth, just letting it fall out with a tone all too flat. “I don’t really feel like I deserve the help. I’m not trying hard enough, and you should have someone a lot better than me. You should’ve had a better brother and you didn’t and I’m sorry about that, but I guess I’m just okay with it now, you know? I’m trying as hard as I can, and I just have to be okay with that.”</p>
<p>“You know that we’re always okay with that, right?” Of course, he nodded again, but it wasn’t entirely clear whether he believed it. Katara just had to trust that even if he didn’t, he was trying, and that was enough. That made her proud of him in a way she didn’t quite know how to express. “If you need time or space or you want us to be right there with you, it’s okay. We understand what you’ve gone through and what you’re going through, and we want to be there for you. We do.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I know. Thank you, Katara. I’m just— I guess I’m still trying to get it through my head, you know? I don’t know how to really accept that it’s true, that I’m worth it, but I’m trying. I know that you think it’s true and Suki and Dad and I just— I’m trying to be that person you think I am. Maybe when I’m that person, I’ll start to figure it out and maybe I can finally feel better.”</p>
<p>“But Sokka, you already are that person. We don’t think you’re anyone else. The reason we love you and we want to help you is because you’re already the person we care about. We don’t expect you to be anyone else, we just want you to be happier. And it’s not a bad thing that you’re not, we get it, but we want to help. We don’t want you to be someone different, we just want to see you smile again.”</p>
<p>To be clear, she wasn’t asking for a smile. Getting one wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, but she understood that Sokka was coming out of an anxiety attack and she didn’t want him to feel pressured to do anything. But when Sokka slowly turned to look at her, a small but genuine smile on his lips, Katara couldn’t help but pull him back for another hug. He was okay. Yes, he was still a little broken, on a lot of medications, and going to therapy more than a few times a month, but he was okay.</p>
<p>“I should get back out there,” said Sokka, suddenly turning to look back to the toy in his hands. He hadn’t stopped flipping it around since Katara gave it to him, his gaze locked on its movements and his fingers moving in a way that showed just how many times he’d repeated that motion before. “They’ll have started already, and I don’t want everyone to think that I ditched.”</p>
<p>“Okay. You sure you’re going to be all right?” Katara didn’t ask the question because she didn’t trust him, but because she wanted to be really sure that he was okay. That he wouldn’t freak out again if they stepped back into the crowd, back into everyone’s sight. Her brother didn’t answer, still staring at his toy, and she looked to him again, eyes filled with concern. “Sokka. You okay?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking, I guess.”</p>
<p>“About what?”</p>
<p>“About…” Sokka shook his head suddenly, rising to his feet and offering her a hand. “Another time.”</p>
<p>It was the glimmer in his eye and the slight curl on the edge of his lip that convinced her not to ask again. Whatever he was thinking about wasn’t something bad, just something he didn’t have time for when there were people waiting for him. So, instead of pressuring Sokka to talk more, she accepted his hand and followed him back out to the competition. He was amazing, of course, as was his entire team, but it was clear that Sokka was the brain. Sokka was the genius who put it all together, even if he still struggled to focus sometimes. Even if he still struggled to get all his words on the page.</p>
<p>Sokka went through a lot. More than a lot. Everything that someone should never have to go through. But he made it. He made it through everything, he was finally getting better, he was starting to be okay, and someday, he really would be. Someday, he would smile again and laugh again, and she would never have to worry about him hurting himself anymore. Okay, so maybe she would <em>always </em>be a little worried about him, but the immediate danger was gone because he was trying. He was healing. He was okay.</p>
<p>For real this time.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Katara never stopped worrying about her brother, no matter how much she tried.</p>
<p>Even when he started smiling more, started laughing and joking like he used to so long ago, Katara still kept her kit around. Just in case something happened. Just in case he crashed or had another relapse. He still struggled sometimes, obviously, and every time she heard about his anxiety taking him out of something or his depression hitting hard one day, Katara couldn’t stop herself from calling him or driving right over to visit. Sokka always rolled his eyes and said she was overreacting, but it didn’t stop him from being grateful.</p>
<p>As they got further into their studies and developed their adult lives, Sokka and Katara saw each other less. Not too much less, since they still got the gang together whenever they could, but enough. They were busy with their own lives and had to deal with things alone. But sometimes they would still get together. Sometimes they would still meet up for events and birthdays and such. Whenever these things came up, Katara found herself overjoyed just at the chance to see her family again, regardless of the cause.</p>
<p>They were spending time together one afternoon, nearly a year after Sokka’s anxiety attack at the robotics tournament, when they finally spoke about the thing he referenced. Sokka was driving his sister nuts with implying it, sometimes mentioning that he wanted to say something but never following through. Not until they were sat together in the park; Zuko and Toph sitting close together and quietly making jokes, Sokka sitting in Suki’s lap as she leaned back against a tree, and Katara resting her head on Aang’s right shoulder.</p>
<p>Sokka’s hands were a little fidgety, playing with Suki’s fingers, and Katara tossed him a gobstopper to help whatever anxiety was bugging him. He took it, an odd look on his face, and that was when he finally asked her to step away from their friends for a minute. To talk to him about something that he’d needed to say for a long time. They didn’t go too far from the gang, just over to another picnic table a few feet away where they could talk without feeling like they had an entire audience. Sokka hopped on the top of the table, his feet on the bench, and Katara took a seat beside him.</p>
<p>“I’m not going to tell you anything bad,” he assured her quickly, tugging at one of his bracelets. Katara was proud of him for being able to wear sleeveless shirts again. It meant the scars didn’t bother him the way they used to. “I just wanted to say thank you, I guess. For that bag or whatever. I know I never really commented on it specifically because you kind of just pulled things out of your backpack, but I knew. Whether you intended me to or not.”</p>
<p>That was a difficult statement. Honesty, Katara didn’t know whether she ever meant for him to know about the bag. She never exactly hid it from him, but she wasn’t overtly telling him that’s what it was for either. The fact that Sokka knew, that he’d probably known for a long time, was a little confusing and quite honesty, a bit jarring. She hesitated before choosing how to respond, not wanting to say the wrong thing but not knowing what the right thing was either.</p>
<p>“I just wanted to help,” she said eventually. That was the truth. The project started because she wanted to help. Not just him, not just herself, but both of them. Her shrug was casual, and Sokka only nodded and let out a small smile in response. “I know how hard it is for you—or was for you—to talk about what’s bothering you, and I guess I just wanted to find a way to help where you wouldn’t feel pressured to have to do that anymore.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I get it.” Sokka tucked a hair behind his ear, pushing his glasses up his nose. He was wearing those more often too, which surprised Katara a little. She never would’ve expected him to phase out his contacts, but it seemed to be exactly what he was doing. “I just can’t believe how much shit you managed to pack into that little thing. And it’s all so specific, like… how did you even know what to put in there?”</p>
<p>“Well, at first I was just filling it with whatever shit you used to steal from me. Pencils, hair ties, you know. The works.” The laugh Sokka let out was amazing. She was glad she was able to see him in that light again, after so many years of pain. She shoved his shoulder playfully. “What? I’m serious! You took so many of my bobby pins when we were in elementary school. You remember that? I had hair in my face for weeks because I couldn’t figure out what you did with them.”</p>
<p>“And you’re blaming me? I wasn’t diagnosed with ADHD yet! How was I supposed to keep track of what I did with my things?”</p>
<p>Katara only rolled her eyes, unable to wipe the smile from her face. That was how they were supposed to be. Not fighting or stressing over whether they would be okay, just bickering and making friendly sibling banter. Smiling, nudging each other’s shoulders as they resisted the urge to truly fight. They were never consistently like that before. Not between Sokka’s early struggles, their mother’s death, and the other things that plagued their mental health. But maybe they were finally at a place where they could. Where they didn’t have to worry about the pain anymore. Not all the time.</p>
<p>There was still the occasional night when Sokka would call his sister, his voice choked with tears, and tell her something went down and he almost relapsed. Each time it happened, all she did was remind him that he didn’t do it. He wanted to, but he didn’t. Instead, he called her, Suki, or their dad—because there was no way Katara was the only one he ever talked to when it was bad—and he let them talk him down. He let them convince him to take a deep breath and hold an ice cube instead because temporary pain wasn’t worth a lifelong scar.</p>
<p>It was one of those scars that Katara bumped into when they were nudging each other, and one of those scars that stole the smile from Sokka’s face. He was okay with them being out in the open, but he wasn’t that great with them being touched. He smiled again when they stopped play fighting but turned away and wrapped his arms around his stomach uncomfortably. Katara placed one hand on his shoulder, her gaze shifting to where Suki was watching them from afar. She looked away when she realized she was noticed, but not before Katara could give her a nod so she would know Sokka was okay.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” said Katara, though her words were met by only a shrug. Sokka still felt guilty about the way he reacted to people seeing and touching his scars, she knew that, but she didn’t know how to make it easier on him. Those were the worst things. The ones she couldn’t fix with any little thing from her kit. “I didn’t mean to—”</p>
<p>“It’s okay. Don’t even worry about it.” Sokka waved his fingers dismissively, though he didn’t pull his palm from his forearm. “I’m overreacting. I just get weird about some things still, you know? Like… like I don’t like people touching those or talking about bad thoughts because it makes <em>me </em>think about bad thoughts and I know it’s really selfish to try and police it, but—”</p>
<p>“It’s not selfish, it’s normal. You went through a lot, Sokka. It’s understandable that you want to keep yourself in a good place. Just tell me what’s not okay and I’ll be mindful of it, I promise. I’m sure the others would be happy to do that too. It’s like when Toph told us what kinds of blind jokes she’s okay with, or Zuko with his scar. Even <em>you</em> when you told everyone about your dysgraphia. You just tell us what is and isn’t okay to talk about and we’ll all remember that, all right? I promise. It’s okay.”</p>
<p>Sokka nodded, but he didn’t give a verbal answer immediately. It was understandable. He was still getting used to being more open about everything, even after he came clean to all his friends about the things he’d struggled with throughout his life. They were accepting, of course—a lot of tears were shed when he finally opened up about his issues with self-harm and -hatred, but it ended in hugs. So many hugs. Katara felt like <em>she </em>was being smothered so she couldn’t even imagine what Sokka must’ve felt like in the middle of it all.</p>
<p>“Later,” he said finally, forcing another smile as he looked up from his hands. “I’m not ready yet, but you’re right. I should do it, and I will. I just don’t want to talk about it right now.”</p>
<p>“Okay. That’s fine.” Katara smiled reassuringly, and Sokka returned the look the best he could. She turned away after a moment, holding up a finger to Sokka before running over to the others and getting her backpack. She hesitated before pulling out the kit but gripped it in her hand and headed back over to where she’d been sitting, throwing it on the table between them. “You need anything?”</p>
<p>He didn’t answer right away, only reaching out to take the bag. Sokka stared down at it for a minute, not saying a single word or moving to open it. The blue pouch was almost stuffed by then, with many things that were a little outdated or not so often used. Katara’s heart pounded for some reason as she watched her brother look at it, but she wasn’t quite sure why. Sokka must’ve known everything that was in there at that point, even if he didn’t think about it. Even if he was rarely the one to ask when he needed something anymore.</p>
<p>It wasn’t until Sokka turned the bag over and placed his fingers on the zipper atop it that his entire expression changed. His face had been blank before but the second he saw the words on one side of the bag, faded away after nearly a decade of being written on there, he started to smile. Not seconds later, that smile turned into a snort, a chuckle, and finally, a hearty laugh. Sokka shook his head slowly, staring at the words in front of him and biting down on the edge of his lip when he turned to look at his sister.</p>
<p>“‘For when he’s being a dumbass’?” he scoffed. Katara furrowed her brow, almost unable to believe what he was implying. In all those years, he’d <em>never </em>noticed the writing on it before? It wasn’t possible. He had to know. “I thought this was because you <em>wanted </em>to help me. It’s really just been a joke all along?”</p>
<p>“No, I told you how it started.” Katara rolled her eyes, nudging her brother’s shoulder again. He pouted, gripping the bag between his fingers. “Come <em>on</em>, Sokka. You spent <em>years </em>taking my pencils, my hair ties, my bobby pins—I couldn’t just let you keep doing that. I was losing my damn mind. Especially since <em>you</em> kept losing everything you took from me.”</p>
<p>“Did I not just give you an excuse for that?” He gave her a look that was thankfully humorous before yanking the old zipper open with one hand. Sokka reached into the bag and pulled out the first thing he found, smiling, and tossing a piece of candy into his mouth. “You still keep these in there?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I do. You’re not the only one who likes to have candy sometimes.”</p>
<p>“You positive you don’t keep it around to make sure you have some just in case?”</p>
<p>Katara didn’t answer. She only smiled, shaking her head as she gave him a look, unable to say anything without admitting that Sokka was right. That she didn’t keep that kit around for her, and when he wasn’t around, she never took anything out of it. It was for Sokka. Even when she thought that it wasn’t, when she thought she made and kept it around for selfish reasons, she didn’t. They were for him. For her, him taking her stuff was a minor inconvenience. For him, it was life-changing and away to easily get the support he needed ever since he was a little kid.</p>
<p>Maybe the kit started because she wanted to keep her things safe, or because she wanted to at least know when she was giving them away, but that wasn’t what it became. It became a way for them communicate without words, a way for Sokka to express how he was feeling without having to articulate it in real thoughts. It was a way for them to get closer and take care of each other without needing to get into detail, without having to explain themselves. It wasn’t just a bag, it was how they talked and shared and the only way to get Sokka to open up for <em>years</em>.</p>
<p>They didn’t stop laughing and joking around the whole time they went through the kit. Sokka kept taking out one thing at a time, looking at it all and shaking his head in disbelief when he came across something he didn’t expect. As it turned out, there were more than a few things he hadn’t realized were actually in there. Apparently, there were a handful of objects he just assumed were elsewhere in Katara’s backpack, and not actually intended for him. After the third time that happened, each time he came across something new, Katara recounted the story of why she put it in there.</p>
<p>Sometimes it was hard to explain why. Not because she couldn’t remember—she remembered <em>all </em>of them—but because it was hard to think about. To talk about the hardest days. The times when Sokka wouldn’t get out of bed, or spent his days dragging his feet. When he cut his wrist and needed her bandages because she wasn’t a skilled enough healer to fully take care of it herself. Sokka seemed to understand when it got particularly difficult and nudged Katara to move on, letting her know that she didn’t have to talk about anything if she didn’t want to. But she did, sometimes.</p>
<p>A lot of days, Katara wouldn’t say a word about what happened. She tried to pretend that everything was okay, that it had always been okay, and that there was no tragedy in their pasts, but there was. Her mother died, and her brother almost did too, by his own hand, no less. Katara talked to the school counselor every now and then, just to make sure that she was okay too. That she wouldn’t lose it and end up crashing the same way Sokka did when he held everything inside. Which he still did, occasionally, but not as much as he used to.</p>
<p>Sokka still broke down some days. He still couldn’t sleep some nights and went out quietly crying on Suki’s lap—something Katara learned about after he’d passed out, because Suki kept their mutual promise of keeping the other updated—but he didn’t hurt himself again. Even when he thought about it, he didn’t go through with it. Especially when he was around Katara, he looked to her kit for an alternative. For something else to get him through his anxiety, his fidgeting, his bad days; and she always, <em>always </em>had something for him there.</p>
<p>There were a lot of people who were there to help them both those days, more than they ever had when they were younger, but that didn’t change the way they looked to each other. That didn’t change the way they relied on one another just as they had their whole lives. Their friends were special to them, their dad was special to them, but there was no one who knew either of them better than they knew each other. So, yeah. Even though she didn’t <em>technically </em>need it anymore, Katara kept the kit around. Because she never needed it in the first place for anything more than making sure Sokka was okay and she had no intentions to turn her back on him now.</p>
<p>Even if he <em>was </em>kind of a dumbass.</p>
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